From  a  photograph  by  William  Dimviddie. 

Colonel  Theodore  Roosevelt  in  the  Field. 


THE  STORY  OF 

THE  ROUGH  RIDERS 

1ST  U.  S.  VOLUNTEER  CAVALRY 

THE  REGIMENT  IN  CAMP  AND  ON  THE  BATTLE  FIELD 


BY 

EDWARD  MARSHALL 

II 

ILLUSTRATED    FROM    PHOTOGRAPHS    TAKEN    ON    THE    FIELD    AND    WITH 
DRAWINGS    MADE    BY 

RICHARD  F.  OUTCATJLT 


NEW  YORK 

G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 

MDCCCXCTX 

\_All  rights  reserved] 


COPYRIGHT,  1899,  BY 
G.  W.  D1LLINGHAM  CO. 


EXECUTIVE     MANSION, 

WASHINGTON. 


February  21,  1899. 


All  of  our  soldiers  in  Cuba  did  well. 
It  was  an  honor  to  the  First  United  States 
Volunteer  Cavalry  to  be  with  them,  and  it 
was  an  honor  to  the  army  to  have  this 
splendid  regiment  at  the  front . 


A  TRIBUTE  FROM   THE   SECRETARY 
OF  WAR. 

The  First  United  States  Volunteer  Cavalry  was  an 
admirable  regiment,  and  did  good  service  during  the 
war.  Officers  and  men  alike  acquitted  themselves  most 
creditably.  They  were  promptly  organized,  were 
equipped  with  smokeless-powder  carbines,  and  took 
part  in  every  military  engagement  in  Cuba,  except  the 
fight  at  El  Caney.  Wherever  they  were  they  did  well. 


viii 


MAJOR-GENERAL   LEONARD   WOOD'S 
OPINION   OF   THE   REGIMENT. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  my  connection  with  the 
regiment,  as  commanding  officer,  ceased  on  June  30th, 
the  day  before  the  San  Juan  charge,  my  interest  in  it 
has  never  lessened  for  a  moment.  I  was  naturally  proud 
of  my  connection  with  it  at  the  beginning.  I  am  proud 
now  of  the  fact  that  I  went  into  the  war  as  its  colonel, 
and  I  am  proud  of  its  record.  When  I  began  to  do  what 
I  could  at  San  Antonio,  to  organize  the  regiment  into  a 
creditable  military  body,  I  said  to  the  men  of  it: 

''  Make  yourselves  as  much  like  regular  soldiers  as  you 
can  in  the  shortest  possible  time.  If  you  think  only  of 

that  you  will  be  thinking  exactly  of  the  right  thing  and 

you  will  have  enough  to  think  about  to  keep  you  very 

busy.      If  you  devote  your  time  and  attention  to  that, 

the  regiment  will  be  a  success." 

The  men  did  make  themselves  so  much  like  regulars 

that  it  was  hard  to  tell  the  difference,  and  the  regiment 

was  a  success. 

It  would  be  utterly  useless  for  me  to  recapitulate  nowr 

the  history  of  the  good  work  the  Rough  Riders  did. 

They  were  not  the  only  good  soldiers  in  the  army,  but 

they  were  among  the  best,  and  they  did  not  do  any  bad 

work. 


FROM  LIEUTENANT-COLONEL   (FOR 
MERLY   MAJOR)   BRODIE. 

Never  in  the  history  of  the  world  had  such  a  regiment 
been  organized.  It  was  made  up  of  men  of  the  frontier, 
who  were  joined  by  volunteers  from  nearly  every  State 
and  Territory  in  the  Union.  The  former  were  accus 
tomed  to  adventure,  and  the  latter  joined  the  regiment 
because  they  were  looking  for  it,  so  there  was  no  man 
in  the  whole  organization  who  was  not  anxious  to  face 
hardship  and  brave  death.  We  had  all  either  seen  or 
wanted  to  see  hard  work.  We  got  it.  The  regiment 
contained  no  shirkers.  I  was  wounded  at  Las  Guasimas. 
It  is  one  of  the  regrets  of  my  life  that  I  could  not  have 
been  with  the  men  at  San  Juan.  I  rejoined  the  regiment 
at  Montauk. 

We  were  as  lucky  in  our  two  commanding  officers  as 
we  were  lucky  in  our  men.  Wood  and  Roosevelt  were 
of  the  very  feAV  worthy  to  command  a  regiment  like  the 
Rough  Riders.  They  were  strong  of  mind  and  body, 
knew  the  military  business,  were  self -forgetting,  patient 
and  brave.  Both  have  since  won  high  honors,  and  both 
have  absolutely  deserved  them.  To  neither  of  them,  in 
all  his  life,  can  any  honor  come  which  is  too  high. 

ALEXANDER  O.  BRODIE. 


PREFACE. 

The  author  makes  no  apologies  for  devoting  an  entire 
book  to  the  story  of  one  regiment  in  the  Spanish- Ameri 
can  War.  The  history  of  the  Rough  Riders  is  really 
the  histca^LoLtlie-war,  for  from  its  beginning  to  its  end 
these  men  were  at  the  forefront  of  the  fighting,  and  did 
work  on  a  par  with  our  very  best  regulars.  The  Ameri 
can  people  has  already  formed  its  estimate  of  them. 
Captain  Lee,  who  was  the  English  military  attache  dur 
ing  the  entire  campaign,  told  me  that  they  were  the  best 
regiment  of  volunteer  soldiers  ever  organized,  and  this 
English  estimate  quite  agrees  with  that  made  by  George 
Lynch,  an  experienced  correspondent  from  London. 
He  said : 

"  ISTo  European,  who  has  had  an  opportunity  to  study 
the  Rough  Riders,  fails  for  a  second  to  appreciate  the 
American  soldier.  It  would  be  madness  to  back  the 
English,  German,  or  French  fighting  machines  against 
men  like  those  in  the  First  Volunteer  Cavalry." 

The  Rough  Riders  were  the  first  volunteer  regiment 
organized,  armed,  and  equipped.  They  were  the  first 
volunteer  soldiers  to  land  in  Cuba.  They  raised  the 
first  flag  flown  by  the  military  forces  of  the  United 
States  on  foreign  soil  since  the  Mexican  AVar. 
They  were  the  first  regiment  of  the  army  to  fire  a  shot 
at  the  Spaniards,  and  the  first  man  killed  was  one  of 
them.  Indeed,  they  bore  the  brunt  of  the  first  battle, 
and  they  bore  it  with  unexampled  bravery.  In  the 

xi 


PREFACE. 

second  battle,  their  colonel  and  his  men  led  the  van  and 
headed  one  of  the  most  desperate  charges  in  the  history 
of  warfare.  From  first  to  last  they  were  always  in  the 
lead,  and  always  a  credit  to  themselves  and  to  their 
country. 

If  these  men  do  not  deserve  a  history  book  devoted 
entirely  to  them,  then  I  am  ignorant  of  any  men  who  do. 

My  own  connection  with  the  regiment  began  the  day 
after  they  landed  in  Cuba  (where  I  had  gone  as  war 
correspondent  for  the  New  York  Journal),  and  lasted 
just  twenty-four  hours.  It  was  then  quickly  put  a  stop 
to  by  a  Mauser  bullet.  Not  more  than  six  weeks  ago 
Colonel,  now  Governor,  Theodore  Roosevelt  sent  me  the 
medal  of  the  regiment,  and  was  good  enough  to  say  that 
lie  was  glad  to  consider  me  a  member  of  it.  Like  medals 
and  like  letters  were  sent  to  Richard  Harding  Davis,  the 
able  correspondent  of  the  New  York  Herald  and  Scrib- 
ner's  Magazine,  and  to  Captain  McCormack  of  the  regu 
lar  army.  Both  of  these  gentlemen  were  with  the 
Rough  Riders  in  the  battle  of  Las  Guasimas,  and,  I  think, 
afterwards  at  the  battle  of  San  Juan. 

The  fact  that  I  was  shot  while  on  the  battlefield  with 
this  regiment,  naturally  made  me  feel  a  deep  sympathy 
with  it,  a  hearty  pride  in  all  its  achievements,  and  con 
stant  interest  in  everything  it  did  in  Cuba  and,  after 
its  return,  in  America.  When  Mr.  John  H.  Cook,  the 
President  of  the  G.  W.  Dillingham  Company,  asked  me 
to  write  a  history  of  the  regiment  I  was,  therefore, 
greatly  pleased.  Of  course  it  was  impossible  that  I 
should  not  have  at  hand  some  of  the  required  material. 
My  long  illness,  however,  had  not  permitted  me  to 


PEEFACE. 

gather  it  in  a  systematic  or  sufficient  way,  and  so  I  have 
had  to  call  to  my  assistance  several  members  of  the 
regiment,  as  well  as  others.  I  am  deeply  indebted  to 
Colonel  Leonard  S.  Wood  (now  Major-General  and 
Military  Governor  of  Santiago  Province),  Captain  James 
H.  McClintoek,  Major  Alexander  Brodie,  Lieutenant  F. 
P.  Llayes,  and  Privates  George  W.  Burgess,  Sam.  W. 
Noyes,  and  "  Judge  "  Murphy.  I  have  borrowed  anec 
dote  and  fact  freely  from  the  newspaper  press,  and  only 
regret  that  the  almost  universal  anonymity  of  American 
journalism  makes  it  impossible  for  me  to  thank  and 
credit  the  writers  by  name.  Richard  F.  Outcault,  who 
has  made  the  drawings  for  the  book,  has  caught  the  spirit 
of  the  regiment  and  the  scenes  in  which  its  work  was 
done,  admirably.  I  am  further  indebted  to  Mr.  W.  R. 
Hearst,  the  proprietor  of  the  'New  York  Journal,  whose 
constant  kindness  has  permitted  me  to  take  time  to  write 
this  book  while  still  a  member  of  the  Journal  staff. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

THE    BUILDING    OF    THE    REGIMENT  .  19 


CHAPTER   II. 
THE    REGIMENT   AT    SAN    ANTONIO      ....  35 

CHAPTER  III. 
AT    TAMPA,    AND    THE    TRIP    TO    CUBA  ...  48 

CHAPTER  IV. 
IN    CUBA,    BEFORE    THE    FIGHTING      ....  65 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE    FIRST    SHOT      .......  84 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    FIRST    BATTLE  .  .  .       j     .  .  .101 

CHAPTER  VII. 
DEATH    AND    SUFFERING  .  .  ,  .  .         122 


CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

AFTER    LAS    GTJASIMAS      .  .  .         137 

CHAPTER    IX. 
THE    BEGINNING    OF    SAN    JUAN  •          169 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE    CHARGE    OF    SAN    JUAN      .  .          184 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    MEN    WHO    DIED         .  *         203 

CHAPTER  XII. 
AFTER   THE    FIGHTING    WAS    OVER     .  211 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

LAST    DAYS    IN    CUBA  .  •          224 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
HOME    AGAIN  .  •  235 

CHAPTER   XV. 
IN    NEW    YORK  ........          256 


ROSTER  •        359 

t 

xvi 


LIST   OF   FULL-PAGE    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 


-TAGE 

COLONEL  THEODORE  ROOSEVELT  IN  THE  FIELD          .       Frontispiece 

A  GROUP  OF  K  TROOP  MEN 31 

THE  DOCK  AT  PORT  TAMPA,  FLORIDA,  ON  THE  DAY  OF  SAILING  45 

COL.  LEONARD  WOOD  IN  CONSULTATION  WITH  LIEUT. -CoL.  ROOSE 
VELT  AT  DAIQUIRI 59 

THE  FIRST  CAMP  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS,  AT  DAIQUIRI    .        .       73 
BUILDING  PALM  SHELTERS  ....  87 

LIEUT.-COL.    ROOSEVELT  EXAMINING  THE   SEVERED  WIRE   JUST 

BEFORE  THE  BATTLE  OF  LAS  GUASIMAS        .        .  97 

COOKING  A  CUBAN  HALF-RATION  BREAKFAST      ...  113 

CAPTAIN  MC€LINTOCK  WOUNDED  AT  LAS  GUASIMAS   .         .         .129 
THE  BATTLE-FIELD  OF  LAS  GUASIMAS          ...  141 

MAKING  CAMP  AFTER  THE   BATTLE  OF  LAS  GUASIMAS        .         .153 
WHERE  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS  WAITED  IN  THE  QUIVERING  HEAT 

BEFORE  THE  CHARGE  OF  SAN  JuAN 165 

THE  SHELL  AT  EL  Poso      .         .  177 

A  GUN  IN  GRIMES'S  BATTERY     ....  189 

ASLEEP  IN  THE  SHADE  ON  THE  RAILROAD  LEADING  TO  SANTIAGO  201 

TROOPERS  AT  MESS  AT  MONTAUK         .         .  213 

THE  FAMOUS  REGIMENTAL  COLORS 225 

COLONEL  ROOSEVELT  AND  His  STAFF  AT  MONTAUK    .        .        .237 

THE  LAST  GUARD        .         .         .  349 


xvn 


THE 


or  THE 
UNIVERSITY 


STORY  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS 


CHAPTER  L 

THE  BUILDING 

OF  THE  REGIMENT. 


Rough,  tough,  we're  the 

stuff, 
We  want  to   fight,  and 

we  can't  get  enough, 
Whoo-pee. 


This  was  the  cry  of  the  Kough 
Riders.  It  is  just  as  well  to  put  it  at 
the  head  of  the  chapter  on  organiza 
tion  as  it  would  be  to  put  it  anywhere 
else,  for  it  unquestionably  expressed 
the  sentiments  of  the  men  who  joined 
the  regiment,  from  the  very  begin 
ning. 

The  moment  that  the  newspapers 
sent  broadcast  the  tale  that  such  a 
regiment  was  contemplated,  excite 
ment  began  in  nearly  every  State  in 
the  Union,  and  did  not  end  until  the 
announcement  was  made  that  the  regi 
ment  was  complete. 
19 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    KOUGH    EIDERS. 

As  it  stood  finished,  the  troops  which  made  it  up, 
theoretically,  came  from  the  following  sections,  although 
men  from  the  East  and  from  other  States  and  Territories 
were  scattered  through  each  troop. 

Troops  A,  B,  and  C,  from  Arizona. 

Troop  D,  from  Oklahoma. 

Troops  E,  F,  G,  H,  and  I,  from  New  Mexico. 

Troop  K,  from  Eastern  colleges  and  cities. 

Troops  L  and  M,  from  Indian  Territory. 

Senator  Warren,  of  Iowa,  is  responsible  for  the  idea 
of  the  Rough  Riders.  He  introduced  and  carried 
through  Congress,  aided  by  Senators  Kyle,  Carter,  and 
others,  a  bill  authorizing  the  enrollment  of  three  regi 
ments,  to  be  made  up  of  expert  hunters,  riflemen,  cow 
men,  frontiersmen,  and  such  other  hardy  characters  as 
might  care  to  enlist  from  the  Territories. 

Captain  Leonard  Wood,  of  the  Medical  Corps,  was  the 
President's  chief  medical  adviser,  and  had  had  much  ex 
perience  in  Indian  fighting  in  the  West. 

Theodore  Roosevelt  wras  Assistant  Secretary  of  the 
Navy,  and  had  had  some  knowledge  of  men  and  things 
on  the  frontier,  through  his  life  on  his  own  and  other 
ranches. 

It  was  the  President's  intention  to  offer  to  Wood  the 
colonelcy  of  one  regiment,  to  Roosevelt  the  colonelcy  of 
a  second,  and  to  Griggsby,  of  Montana,  the  colonelcy  of 
the  third.  Wood  and  Roosevelt  received  their  offers  at 
about  the  same  moment.  Roosevelt  promptly  declined 
his,  on  the  theory  that  he  had  not  had  sufficient  military 
experience  to  warrant  him  in  taking  command  of  a  regi 
ment.  He  asked  that  he  might  be  given  the  second 

20 


THE   BUILDING   OF   THE   REGIMENT. 

place  in  the  regiment  commanded  by  Wood,  which  was 
done.     Thus  the  Rough  Riders  began. 

Alexander  Brodie,  who  afterwards  became  major  of 
the  regiment,  was  probably  the  first  man  to  systematically 
start  towards  the  organization  of  this  particular  regi 
ment,  lie  was  shot  at  Las  G  uasimas,  and  after  the  war 
he  ran  for  Congress  from  his  section,  with  disastrous 
results.  Xo  more  gallant  soldier  ever  wore  Uncle  Sam's 
uniform. 

Major  Brodie  started  about  the  organization  of  the 
regiment  with  characteristic  impetuosity.  Before  he 
telegraphed  to  the  President  that  he  had  engaged  him 
self  upon  the  enterprise  at  all,  he  telegraphed  to  each 
county  in  Arizona,  saying  that  he  wanted  men;  that  he 
wanted  good  men,  and  that  he  wanted  them  quick. 
Brodie's  first  fear  was  that  he  would  not  receive  sufficient 
replies,  so  that  he  could  tender  the  services  of  a  respecta 
ble  number.  He  made  the  conditions  of  enlistment  very 
rigid.  He  demanded,  first,  that  the  men  should  be 
good  horsemen;  second,  that  they  should  be  good 
marksmen;  and,  third,  that  they  should  be  of  good 
moral  character.  He  asked  for  as  many  references  as 
you  would  ask  for  if  you  were  investigating  the  ante 
cedents  of  a  prospective  servant  girl.  He  had  an  idea 
that  this  request  would  bar  from  service  in  the  regiment 
many  men  otherwise  desirable,  and  it  undoubtedly  did. 
But  his  amazement  was  writ  in  large  characters  on  his 
face  and  in  his  language,  when  he  found  that  Arizona 
contained  enough  men,  exactly  to  his  liking  and  ardently 
anxious  for  enlistment,  to  form  a  full  regiment.  This 
information  he  telegraphed  to  the  President  with  great 

21 


THE   STORY   OF    THE    ROUGH    RIDERS. 

glee.  But  the  President  wired  back  to  Brodie,  that 
Arizona's  quota  of  troops  previously  decided  upon  by 
Congress  assembled,  was  insufficient  to  enable  him  to 
accept  the  services  of  a  whole  regiment  from  that  Terri 
tory,  lie  added  to  the  message,  and  this  well-nigh  broke 
Brodie's  heart,  that  not  more  than  two  hundred  men 
could  be  taken. 

Brodie  started  on  a  process  of  sifting,  and  presently 
gathered  at  Prescott  the  best  three  hundred  and  fifty 
out  of  the  lot.  From  these  he  selected  two  hundred, 
after  having  examined  them  first  as  to  their  qualifica 
tions  for  killing  Spaniards  and,  second,  as  to  their  quali 
fications  for  entering  into  the  heavenly  choir,  in  case 
they  should  by  chance  be  killed  themselves. 

James  H.  McClintock,  afterwards  captain  of  B  Troop, 
probably  gave  Brodie  more  assistance  than  any  other 
one  man.  McClintock  would  have  been  a  bad  man  him 
self  had  he  not  been  prevented  by  the  restraining  in 
fluence  of  the  profession  of  journalism,  which  he  fol 
lowed.  He  had  been  the  editor  of  half  a  dozen  papers 
in  the  Territory,  some  of  which  are  as  dead  as  he  came 
near  to  being  at  Las  Guasimas;  some  of  which  now  sur 
vive  on  half -total  disability,  as  he  does;  and  some  of 
which  are  as  active  and  as  sturdy  as  he  was  when  he 
helped  Brodie  to  organize  the  Arizona  troops. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  tell  a  chronological  history  of 
the  organization  of  this  regiment,  because  I  do  not  be 
lieve  that  anyone  could  prepare  such  a  chapter.  The 
regiment  was  organized,  as  most  of  its  members  had 
previously  lived,  and  as  it  fought  at  Guasimas  and  San 
Juan — helter-skelter. 

22 


THE    BUILDING    OF    THE    REGIMENT. 

Arizona  furnished  the  regimental  colors  and  the 
regimental  mascot.  The  universal  sympathy  which 
existed  between  the  people  of  the  Territory  and  the  ob 
ject  of  the  organization,  could  not  be  more  plainly  shown 
than  it  was  by  these  two  episodes.  The  ladies  of  the 
Women's  Relief  Corps  at  Phoenix  gave  the  flag,  which 
was  presented  by  the  Governor.  As  Captain  McClintock 
received  the  colors,  a  chorus  of  female  voices  from  the 
Territorial  Xormal  School  sang  "  God  be  with  you  till 
we  meet  again."  The  regimental  mascot  was  given  to 
the  regiment  by  Robert  Brow,  a  prominent  and  jovial 
gentleman  of  Prescott,  and  if  the  band  played  at  all 
during  the  ceremony,  the  tune  was  probably  either 
"  We  won't  go  home  till  morning,"  or  "  The  Streets  of 
Cairo."  Thus  extremes  met. 

The  flag  was  a  beautiful  silk  standard,  sewed  together 
by  devoted  women  who  did  not  mind  sitting  up  all  night 
in  order  to  get  it  ready  in  time,  and  it  is  said  that  there 
was  much  difficulty  in  finding  the  material  of  which  to 
make  it.  The  same  rumor  tells  of  a  blue  silk  ball  gown, 
which  may  or  may  not  have  been  used  as  the  field  for  the 
flag's  white  stars.  It  was  understood  and  hoped  that 
President  McKinley  would,  when  the  regiment  was  in 
Washington,  formally  present  the  colors  to  it  in  behalf 
of  the  ladies  of  Phoenix,  but  for  some  reason  this  plan 
fell  through. 

The  regimental  mascot  was  a  mountain  lion  cub,  who 
had  been  named  Florence  by  Mr.  Robert  Brow's  patron, 
who  brought  her  in  to  him,  and  possibly  turned  her  over 
to  him  in  payment  for  a  stack  of  blue  chips.  She  was 
an  extremely  handsome  animal,  with  soft,  deep,  tawny 

23 


THE   STOKY    OF   THE    KOUGH   KIDEES. 

fur,  and  eyes  wliieli  were  deceptively  mild  in  their  ap 
pearance.  Nothing  could  possibly  be  more  satisfactory 
and  comforting  than  the  gentle  purr  of  this  pleasant  cat, 
and  nothing  could  certainly  have  been 
sharper  or  more  lacerating  than  the  points 
of  the  claws  which,  for  a  certain  portion 
of  the  time,  she  kept  amiably  concealed  in 
the  velvet  pads  of  her  muscular  pawrs. 
Florence  was  fond  of  soldiers,  and  never 
attacked  them.  She  hated  civilians,  and 
the  man  who  did  not  wear  a  uniform  was 
reasonably  certain  to  carry  her  signature 
away  with  him  if  he  went  near  enough  for 
her  to  reach  him.  This  is  literally  true. 

The  flag  was  the  first  to  be  raised  by  the 
army  during  the  war,  and  the  day  we 
landed  floated  proudly  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Losil- 
tires.  It  was  gallantly  borne  through  every  engagement 
in  Cuba,  and  has  now  been  returned  to  the  Women's 
Relief  Corps  of  Phoenix,  who  point  with  pardonable 
pride  to  the  many  bullet  holes  which  are  in  it. 

The  mountain  lion  was  very  wisely  left  at  Tampa 
when  the  regiment  sailed.  Some  of  the  troopers  advo 
cated  her  transportation  to  Cuba  on  the  theory  that  the 
colonel  could  sick  her  on  the  Spaniards  just  before  each 
battle,  with  disastrous  results  to  the  enemy,  but  still,  she 
was  left  at  Tampa.  She  has  now  gone  back  to  Arizona. 
Probably  Mr.  Robert  Brow  has  her  again.  She  did  her 
duty  nobly,  and  deserves  a  pension. 

One  more  word  about  Arizona,  which  does  not  entirely 
concern  the  Rough  Riders.  This  Territory,  both  on  the 

24 


THE   BUILDING   OF   THE   REGIMENT. 

first  and  second  calls  for  troops,  had  her  full  quota  organ 
ized,  armed,  and  equipped  before  any  other  State  or  Ter 
ritory  in  the  Union. 

At  Whipple  Barracks,  when  the  two  hundred  selected 
men  marched  away  to  take  the  train  for  San  Antonio, 
they  left  behind  them  fifteen  hundred  to  two  thousand 
sorrowing  ones,  who  w^ould  have  gone  with  them  at  the 
drop  of  the  hat,  and  who  mourned  because  the  hat 
fell  not. 

It  was  on  the  3d  of  May  that  the  Arizona  men  started 
for  San  Antonio. 

It  was  on  the  8th  of  May  that  the  very  last  men  of  all 
—those  of  K  Troop — left  Washington  for  San  Antonio. 
These  were  the  "  dude  warriors/7  the  "  dandy  troopers/7 
the  "  gilded  gang.77  When  their  train  pulled  into  San 
Antonio,  and  they  started  stragglingly  to  march  to  camp, 
they  encountered  a  contingent  of  three  hundred  and 
forty  cowboys  from  New  Mexico.  Oil  and  water  are  not 
farther  removed  than  were  the  everyday  natures  of  these 
two  groups  of  men.  Yet,  instantly  they  fraternized, 
and  from  that  moment — through  the  hardships  of  it  all, 
through  the  blood  and  death  and  fever  of  it  all — these 
men  were  brothers. 

Concerning  the  voyage  of  the  Washington  swells,  I 
will  quote  an  item  from  a  newspaper.  It  indicates  some 
interesting  things  about  the  regiment: 

"A  well-known  ^sTew  York  clubman  had  enlisted. 
When  departing  for  San  Antonio  he  engaged  a 
sleeper,  and  was  shown  to  his  place  by  the  porter. 
Just  as  he  deposited  his  baggage,  Sergeant  Thad- 
deus  Higgins,  an  old  cavalryman  of  the  regular  ser- 

25 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 


vice,  who  had  charge  of  the  party,  tapped  him  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  '  Take  these  things  back  there,  '  he  said,  jerking  his 
thumb  in  the  direction  of  the  ordinary  day  coaches  pro 
vided  by  the  Government  for  the  troopers. 

"  The  clubman  looked  surprised.  It  was  his  first  ex 
perience  in  military  discipline. 

u  k  That's  where  you  belong/  added  Sergeant  Higgins, 

with  the  thumb  still  pointed 
to  the  rear. 

"  The  clubman  was  made 
of  good  stuff.  He  saluted, 
picked  up  his  things,  and 
went  back  to  the  day  coaches. 
He  did  not  sleep  at  full 
length  until  the  train  ar 
rived  at  San  Antonio." 

Definitely,  the  Arizona 
contingent  started  for  San 
Antonio  May  3d;  the  troop 
from  Guthrie,  Oklahoma, 
started  May  4th,  and  the  four 
troops  from  Xcw  Mexico  started  May  6th. 

And  it  may  be  as  well  noAV  to  go  back  to  some  of  the 
experiences  which  Colonel  Roosevelt,  then  Assistant 
Secretary  of  the  Navy,  was  having  in  Washington. 

From  the  very  start,  as  I  have  said,  Colonel  Roosevelt 
was  considered  the  head  of  the  regiment.  The  fact  that 
he  had  declined  to  accept  the  colonelcy  on  the  ground 
that  he  did  not  have  enough  experience,  and  that  the 
post  of  commanding  officer  had  been  given  to  Captain 

26 


THE   BUILDING   OF   THE   REGIMENT. 

Leonard  Wood  of  the  Medical  Staff,  had  no  effect  on 
the  belief  of  the  people,  that  Roosevelt  was  the  colonel; 
that  Roosevelt  was  the  organizer;  and  that  Roosevelt 
would  carry  the  regiment  through  to  victory,  although 
this  belief  was  not  wholly  accurate.  All  kinds  of  appli 
cations  for  places  in  the  regiment  were  made  to  him. 
For  instance,  on  April  27th,  Representative  Catchings, 
of  Mississippi,  called  upon  him  to  offer  the  services  of  a 
company  from  Yicksburg,  under  the  guidance  of  Jack 
Conley,  known  to  be  one  of  the  most  daring  characters 
in  th'at  State.  Roosevelt  had  to  decline.  At  that  very 
moment  letters  and  telegrams  lay  on  his  desk,  which  toll 
of  over  fifteen  thousand  men  who  wanted  to  join  the 
regiment.  Probably  no  military  organization  has  ever 
been  made  up  of  men  selected  from  so  large  a  number 
of  applicants,  or  of  men  so  carefully  selected.  I  could 
fill  a  chapter  easily  by  telling  of  the  men  who  wanted  to 
be  Rough  Riders,  but  couldn't.  The  Rocky  Mountain 
sharpshooters,  alone,  comprised  more  than  two  hundred 
men,  and  among  them  were  many  who  had  seen  service 
during  some  of  the  regular  army's  most  desperate  Indian 
campaigns,  and  men  who  are  known  as  being  among  the 
best  hunters  of  big  game  in  all  the  West.  A  large  dele 
gation  of  men  from  Harvard  College  called  upon  Roose 
velt  one  day  in  Washington  and  offered  their  services  in 
a  body.  Indeed,  delegations  of  that  kind  from  most  of 
the  Eastern  colleges  went  to  him,  but  went  to  him  in 
vain.  His  secretary  answered  more  than  five  thousand 
individual  applications  for  places  in  the  regiment,  and 
answered  ninety-nine  per  cent,  of  them  with  declinations. 
Finally,  Roosevelt  decided,  after  a  consultation  with 

27 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS. 

the  Secretary  of  War  and  General  Miles,  the  command 
ing  general  of  the  army,  to  organize  a  troop  in  "Wash 
ington. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  speak  rapidly  of  the  personal 
ities  of  some  of  the  men  whom  he  accepted  for  this  troop. 
There  were  among  them  some  of  the  best  football  players 
in  the  country;  a  noted  steeplechaser;  a  crack  polo 
player;  famous  clubmen;  honor  men  in  almost  all  the 
Eastern  colleges;  and  many  famous  amateur  athletes. 
Two  others — J.  C.  Clagett,  of  Frederick,  Maryland, 
and  L.  M.  Montgomery,  of  Bradley,  Maryland — rich 
farmers,  were  so  anxious  to  join  that  they  offered  to 
pay  their  own  transportation  and  furnish  their  own 
horses  and  equipments.  An  idea  of  K  Troop  is  given 
below. 

Woodbury  Kane  was  a  polo  player  of  note,  and  a  hard 
rider  on  the  hunting  field.  He  came  of  a  fighting 
family;  played  football  at  Harvard. 

Craig  Wadsworth  was  one  of  the  "  fighting  Genesee 
Wadsworths,"  whose  name  had  always  been  among  the 
foremost  in  the  annals  of  the  country  in  war.  He  had 
led  the  Genesee  Valley  hunts  for  some  years,  and  at  other 
times  had  led  many  a  german  in  New  York  ballrooms. 

William  Tiffany  was  a  nephew  of  the  late  Mrs.  August 
Belmont,  and  grandnephew  of  Commodore  Perry.  He 
spent  several  years  on  the  plains  of  Montana. 

Reginald  or  "  Reggie  "  Ronalds  was  the  son  of  Mrs. 
Pierre  Lorillard  Ronalds,  who  is  the  best  known  Ameri 
can  in  London,  is  a  great  friend  of  the  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Wales,  and  has  a  voice  that  has  held  Europe 
and  America  under  its  spell  for  two  generations. 

28 


THE    BUILDING   OF   THE    REGIMENT. 

Ronalds  once  played  tackle  on  a  famous  Yale  football 
team. 

Dudley  S.  Dean,  captain  of  the  Harvard  football  team 
of  '91,  was  in  charge  of  the  business  of  the  Mexican 
Central  R.  R.  at  Las  Vegas,  Mexico,  up  to  the  time  when 
he  resigned  and  came  North  to  enlist. 

Guy  Murchie  was  the  well-known  Harvard  coach. 

Waller  was  the  champion  high-jumper  of  Yale. 

Stephens  was  a  great  polo  player  from  Colorado. 

Henry  AY.  Bull,  of  California,  was  one  of  the  leading 
members  of  the  Harvard  crewr. 

Hollister  was  Harvard's  champion  half-mile  runner. 

Horace  Devereaux,  from  Colorado  Springs,  was  the 
leader  in  one  of  Princeton's  most  famous  football 
teams. 

Basil  Ricketts  was  the  son  of  the  late  General  Rick- 
etts,  and  was  born  just  across  the  street  from  the  place  at 
which  he  entered  service  that  day. 

Sterne  was  a  well-knowTn  polo  player. 

Percival  Gassett,  of  Boston,  was  a  grandson  of  Com 
modore  "  Mad  Jack "  Percival,  who  commanded  the 
frigate  "Constitution."  Gassett  had  served  for  three 
years  in  Troop  A  in  Boston,  and  in  Light  Battery  A. 
He  bore  a  medal  for  marksmanship. 

There  were  three  New  Yrork  policemen  in  the  troop, 
Henry  Haywood,  Edwin  Eberman,  and  William  Breen. 
Eberman  also  served  in  the  Sixth  Cavalry  at  Pine  Ridge, 
and  wears  a  medal  for  gallant  conduct  there.  Two  other 
ex-cavalrymen  were  in  the  troop.  First  Sergeant  Higgins, 
of  New  York,  and  Private  Price.  It  is  interesting  to 
note  that  the  policemen  who  joined  the  regiment  were 

29 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH    RIDERS. 

given  indefinite  leave  of  absence  with  full  pay  by  the 
city.  Poor  Hay  wood  was  killed  July  1st. 

I  devote  considerable  space  to  these  men,  not  because 
their  work  was  any  better  than  that  of  the  men  of  whom 
I  do  not  speak  by  name,  but  in  order  to  illustrate  the 
extraordinary  materials  of  which  the  regiment  was  made. 
That  such  chaps  should  have  joined  at  all  was,  perhaps, 
more  to  their  credit  than  it  was  to  the  credit  of  the 
Westerners  who  joined,  for  they  had  more  to  lose  in 
going,  and  the  hardships  of  a  soldier's  life  meant  more 
to  them  than  they  did  to  the  men  who  had  known  hard 
ships  all  their  lives.  There  were  those  among  this  dude 
contingent,  however,  who  had  done  service  on  the  plains, 
and  who  could  ride  as  well,  or  throw  a  rope  as  well,  or 
shoot  as  well,  or  do  any  of  the  things  which  are  asso 
ciated  with  life  on  the  frontier,  as  well  as  the  men  who 
were  properly  known  as  cowboys. 

It  was  on  the  6th  of  May  that  Theodore  Roosevelt 
was  sworn  in  as  lieutenant-colonel  of  volunteers.  The 
ceremony  took  place  in  the  office  which  he  had  occupied 
as  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  and  there  were  a 
good  many  prominent  men  there  to  see  the  famous 
civilian  fighter  change  to  a  military  fighter.  There  were 
senators  and  representatives  there  and  many  army  offi 
cers.  General  Corbin  administered  the  oath. 

That  same  day  most  of  the  members  of  Troop  K  were 
mustered  in.  They  were  in  the  Army  Dispensary 
building  in  Washington  when  Roosevelt  made  his  first 
speech  to  them.  It  was  the  first  speech  he  had  made 
as  an  army  officer,  and  he  evidently  enjoyed  the  situa 
tion.  During  the  Santiago  campaign  he  made  almost 

30 


THE   BUILDING   OF   THE    REGIMENT. 

as  many  speeches  to  his  soldiers  as  he  did  to  the  voters 
of  New  York  State  during  his  political  campaign,  and 
the  soldiers  always  enjoyed  them.  He  said  to  the  men 
who  had  gathered  there : 

"  Gentlemen :  You  have  now  reached  the  last  point. 
If  any  one  of  you  doesn't  mean  business,  let  him  say  so 
now.  An  hour  from  now  it  will  be  too  late  to  back  out. 
Once  in,  you've  got  to  see  it  through.  You've  got  to 
perform  without  flinching  whatever  duty  is  assigned  to 
you,  regardless  of  the  difficulty  or  danger  attending  it. 
You  must  know  how  to  ride,  you  must  know  how  to 
shoot,  you  must  know  how  to  live  in  the  open.  Absolute 
obedience  to  every  command  is  your  first  lesson.  No 
matter  what  comes  you  mustn't  squeal.  Think  it  over 
— all  of  you.  If  any  man  wants  to  withdraw,  he  will 
be  gladly  excused,  for  there  are  thousands  who  are 
anxious  to  have  places  in  this  regiment." 

Of  course  no  one  withdrew.  The  comic  paragraphers 
had  a  deal  of  fun  over  the  enlistment  of  these  men— 
these  petted  ones  of  fortune  who  were  going  to  war — but 
the  comic  paragraphers  stopped  saying  funny  things 
when  the  petted  ones  of  fortune,  later,  stood  up  like  the 
real  men  they  were  and  took,  without  whimpering,  their 
doses  of  steel  medicine  on  the  battlefields  of  Cuba. 

They  gave  their  lieutenant-colonel  a  rousing  cheer, 
and  three  times  three  times  more  rousing  cheers.  After 
wards  they  cheered  him  in  the  staid  and  quiet  precincts 
of  the  Navy  Department  until  all  the  clerks,  who  had 
never  heard  such  a  disturbance  within  its  sacred  walls 
before,  swrarmed  into  the  hallways  and  wished  that  they 
were  going  to  war  too. 

3  33 


THE   STOKY    OF   THE   KOUGH   EIDERS. 

In  the  meantime,  Colonel  AVood  was  busy  at  San 
Antonio.  The  men  began  to  pour  in  there  from  the 
Territories  in  which  they  had  been  enlisted.  By  May 
10th  the  regiment  was  all  there,  and  was  being  licked 
into  shape  with  a  rapidity  that  was  probably  never 
equalled  before. 


34 


CHAPTER  IL 

THE  REGIMENT 
AT  SAN  ANTONIO. 

The  life  of  the  regiment  at  San  Antonio  was  almost 
as  interesting  as  the  life  of  the  regiment,  afterwards,  in 
Cuba.  Probably  there  never  was  banded  together  such 
an  incongruous  mass  of  men  as  this  one  which  gathered 
in  the  Texan  city  for  the  purpose  of  being  put  into  shape 
as  a  cavalry  regiment. 

The  men  were  at  first  put  into  the  old  Exposition 
building,  because  there  were  no  tents  for  them.  All  the 
officers  expected  clashes  between  the  Eastern  contingent 
and  the  Western  men;  but  the  clashes  did  not  come. 
The  men  mixed  fraternally,  and  officers  ceased  to  be 
surprised  when  they  found  that  an  Arizona  bronco 
buster  had  chosen  as  his  bunkie  some  Eastern  college 


man. 


Colonel  Roosevelt  quickly  won  the  love  and  confi 
dence  of  the  men  who  were  under  him,  by  refusing  to 
accept  for  himself  any  conveniences  which  he  could  not 
offer  to  his  men.  He  slept  as  they  slept,  and  ate  what 
they  ate.  Another  thing  which  pleased  them  was  the 
early  announcement  that  it  had  been  arranged  in 
Washington,  through  his  personal  efforts,  to  arm  the 
regiment  with  Krag-Jorgenson  carbines.  The  Rough 
Riders  thus  became  the  only  volunteer  regiment  of  the 
army  properly  equipped  with  modern  guns. 

35 


THE   STORY    OF   THE    ROUGH    RIDERS. 


After  the  tents  came,  the  men  left  the  Exposition 
building  and  made  a  regular  military  camp  on  the  Ex 
position  grounds.  A  very  large  majority  of  them  had 
never  seen  a  shelter-tent  before,  and  knew  much  less 
about  how  to  make  a  military  camp  than  some  of  them 
knew  about  differential  calculus,  and  others  about  stop 
ping  stampeding  cattle.  Many  of  the  officers  quartered 
themselves  in  the  buildings  thereabouts,  but  Roosevelt 

slept  in  his  shelter-tent 
with  his  poncho  and  his 
blanket.  The  regiment,  by 
the  way,  had  no  regimental 
or  officers'  tents  assigned 
to  it  until  it  arrived  at 
Montauk,  after  the  war 
was  over. 

There  were  men  ad 
mitted  to  the  regiment 
after  the  mobilization  at 
San  Antonio,  and  there 
were  men  who  left  it  after 

that.  Some  of  these  were  finally  rejected  on  their 
physical  examination,  and  some  were  dropped  or  dropped 
themselves  for  other  reasons. 

One  of  the  latter  class  was  a  German,  who  must  cer 
tainly  have  been  accepted  by  mistake.  While  the 
Rough  Riders  were  not  all  educated  men,  they  were 
mostly  chaps  with  breech-loading,  rapid-fire-high-speed- 
projectile  minds.  The  German's  head  lacked  these 
characteristics.  He  was  undeniably  stupid.  He  suf 
fered.  He  went. 

36 


THE   REGIMENT   AT   SAN   ANTONIO. 

It  came  about  in  this  way.  The  men  in  his  troop 
had  decided  that  they  did  not  care  to  accompany  him  to 
Cuba,  but  they  took  him  aside,  and  with  many  words 
explained  to  him  their  high  regard.  They  told  him  that 
he  was  a  man  whose  reputation  for  bravery  had  gone 
before  him,  and  that  as  the  Spaniards  had  crossed  the 
Mexican  border  into  Texas,  and  were  momentarily  ex 
pected  to  attack  that  camp  at  San  Antonio,  he  had  been 
selected  as  the  one  man  of  all  men  to  protect  it  from 
their  devilish  wiles.  Xight  was  approaching,  and  the 
last  snow  of  the  tardy  spring  was  falling.  They  gave  him 
three  candles  and  they  posted  him  in  a  remote  place  by  a 
tree. 

"  If  one  regiment  of  Spaniards  attacks  you,"  said  they, 
"light  one  candle;  if  the  attack  is  made  by  two  regi 
ments,  then  light  two ;  if  three  regiments  come  upon  you 
in  the  night,  light  all  of  them,  and  may  God  have  mercy 
on  your  soul.  AVe  are  sorry  that  we  cannot  give  you  a 
gun." 

The  German  accepted  the  responsibility,  and  his 
leave-taking  was  impressive.  Solemnly  the  men  of  his 
troop  filed  up,  and  sadly  and  affectionately  they  shook 
his  hand.  They  assured  him  that  it  was  a  great  thing 
to  be  the  first  man  in  the  war  to  die  for  his  country,  and 
he  wept  in  dialect  as  he  thanked  them  for  the  chance. 

Strict  military  regulations  had  not  been  put  in  force 
at  San  Antonio,  else  it  would  have  been  impossible  for 
the  twenty  men  to  leave  the  camp  who  stole  away  at 
midnight  toward  that  watchful  German.  But  they  left 
it,  and' when  they  came  upon  the  German,  his  regret  was 
that  lie  had  not  more  than  three  candles,  for  he  was 

37 


THE   STOKY    OF   THE   ROUGH   EIDERS. 

convinced  that  the  entire  Spanish  army  of  not  three, 
but  three  thousand  regiments  had  begun  a  night  attack. 
Also  he  became  impressed  with  the  idea  that  there  are 
other  things  nicer  than  dying  for  one's  country. 

His  disappearance  might  have  been  recorded  as  de 
sertion.  But  it  was  not. 

Another  episode — B  Troop  had  no  cook.  That  is,  its 
cook  had  expressed  his  opinion  of  his  assignment  to  that 
duty  by  remarking : 

"  What  the  hell  do  I  know  about  cooking?  All  I  do 
is  to  throw  the  stuff  together,  boil  it  and  then  yell 
'dinner!'" 

This,  unfortunately,  was  too  true,  and  great  was  the 
grief  of  Captain  McClintock  and  Lieutenant  Alexander 
thereat.  Desperate,  they  dined  at  a  restaurant.  That 
meal  wras  a  taste  of  Paradise.  McClintock  said : 

"  I'm  going  to  get  that  cook!  " 

He  disappeared  into  the  kitchen,  and  great  was  the 
woe  and  loud  the  protests  of  the  proprietor  of  the  res 
taurant  while  McClintock  was  explaining  to  the  cook  the 
beauties  of  service  in  the  uniform  of  Uncle  Sam.  No 
recruiting  officer  in  the  service  of  the  Queen  ever  worked 
harder  to  earn  his  fee  than  McClintock  did  to  get  that 
cook.  His  eloquence  won  the  day,  and  the  cook  enlisted. 
Then  did  B  Troop  begin  to  feast  like  lords.  But  sud 
denly  the  cook  was  missing.  ]STo  search  availed  the 
grief -struck  officers.  Days  passed.  Frank  W.  Schenck 
had  gone. 

When  he  reappeared,  McClintock's  joy  at  his  return 
was  too  acute  to  permit  much  scolding.  He,  however, 
demanded  an  explanation  of  his  five  days'  absence,  and 

38 


THE   REGIMENT   AT   SAN   ANTONIO. 

Frank  "W.  Schenck  replied  with  honeyed  sweetness,  that 
he  had  gone  to  San  Antonio  (a  mile  away)  and  started 
to  return  on  time  but  had  missed  his  car. 

At  Montauk,  the  same  cook  obtained  a  furlough,  and 
went  away.  When  he  returned,  he  brought  a  Mrs. 
Frank  W.  Schenck  with  him.  He  had  gone  all  the  way 
to  San  Antonio  to  be  married,  and  that  first  puzzling  ab 
sence  was  at  last  made  clear.  For  courtship  must  pre 
cede  marriage. 

The  Easterners  were  scarcely  less  at  home  on  the 
"Western  broncos,  than  the  Westerners  were  on  the  Mc- 
Clellan  saddles.  They  missed  the  great  Mexican  pom 
mels  which  had  been  theirs  since  childhood,  and  one 
of  them  announced  that  riding  a  McClellan  was  like 
clinging  to  a  chip  at  sea.  One  night  the  men  had  to 
handle  thirty  half -broken  terrors.  They  rejected  their 
saddles  altogether,  and  worked  the  animals  with  ropes 
alone. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  inspiring  to  the  on 
looker  or  more  interesting  to  the  participant  than  the 
first  regimental  evolutions  on  these  wild  Western 
ponies.  There  would  be  five  or  six  horses  in  every 
troop  whose  refusal  to  stay  in  line  was  firm  and  per 
manent.  It  was  frequently  necessary  to  stop  the  entire 
manoeuvre  while  some  cowboy  paused  to  throw  his  un 
willing  little  brute.  Bridles  were  scarce  at  first,  and 
some  of  the  men  got  on  with  the  simple  hitch  of  a  lariat 
around  their  animal's  lower  jaw.  For  a  horse  to  bolt 
was  common,  for  one  or  two  to  rear  so  enthusiastically 
that  they  eventually  fell  backward,  excited  no  comment. 
Nothing  less  than  the  stampede  of  an  entire  troop  amid 

39 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

the  howling  of  the  men  was  considered  really   excit 
ing. 

The  second  mounted  regimental  drill  occurred  May 
24th,  and  with  it  came  one  of  these  stampedes.  Dozens 
of  the  troopers  were  thrown,  and  among  the  victims 
were  as  many  Western  cowboys  as  members  of  the  gilded 
Eastern  gang.  They  had  attempted  to  charge,  with 
Roosevelt  in  the  lead.  That  some  of  the  men  were  not 
killed  in  the  ensuing  mix-up  was  wonderful.  Ilallett 
Allsop  Borrowe  was  thrown  beneath  two  strapping  cow 
boys  and  had  his  new  uniform  blouse  literally  torn  off 
his  back.  The  Government  provides  not  for  such  con 
tingencies,  and  Borrowe  had  to  buy  his  own  new  blouse. 
Afterwards  the  charge  was  tried  again  with  some  success. 

The  next  day  Joseph  Jenkins  Lee,  of  Baltimore,  and 
Eoscoe  Charming,  who  was  Yale's  great  half-back  in  '96, 
were  assigned  their  mustangs.  They  took  what  they 
themselves  called  a  trial  canter.  That  there  were  more 
trials  than  cantering  about  it  was  shown  by  their  con 
dition  when  they  returned.  Inasmuch  as  they  took 
solemn  oath  that  they  had  not  been  thrown,  the  regi 
ment  concluded  that  they  must  have  paused  by  the  way 
side  to  mix  mud  pies. 

The  first  man  sent  to  hospital  was  Private  Green  way. 
He  tried  to  stop  his  mustang  with  his  kneecap. 

Just  before  the  regiment  departed  for  the  concentra 
tion  camp  at  Tampa,  the  gathering  and  shipping  of  the 
live  stock  afforded  much  pleasure  and  instruction  to  the 
men.  That  any  of  the  men  who  entered  the  corrals 
lived  to  go  afterwards  to  Cuba  was  not  the  fault  of  the 
merry  mustangs  who  plunged  therein.  "  Judge " 

40 


THE   REGIMENT   AT   SAN   ANTONIO. 

Murphy  was  the  sergeant  of  the  guard.  His  heart  had 
been  broken  by  the  work  of  getting  the  horses  out.  He 
had  been  at  it  for  twenty  hours,  and  war  seemed  cruel  to 
him.  That  was  when  he  learned  to  love  Captain  Cap- 
ron.  He  was  between  two  plunging  brutes  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  corral,  finding  it  difficult  to  keep  awake,  even 
in  such  distressing  circumstances.  Captain  Capron,  long 
and  big,  climbed  over  the  surrounding  fence  and  said: 

"Go  up  and  go  to  sleep  on  one  of  those  boxes.  I'll 
do  your  work  for  you.  I  don't  want  to  kill  my  men — 
yet." 

Afterwards  at  Las  Guasimas,  they  were  glad  to  die  for 
him  and  he  was  glad  to  die  with  them. 

The  second  wounded  man  was  Marshall  Bird,  whose 
subsequent  wonderful  escape  at  Guasimas  is  mentioned 
in  the  story  of  that  battle.  Bird  was  thrown  while  he 
was  a  member  of  a  detail  going  after  horses,  and  it  was 
thought  for  a  time  that  his  skull  was  badly  fractured, 
but  he  turned  up  for  duty  and  went  on  witli  the  others. 

It  may  be  well  now  to  devote  a  few  brief  words  to  the 
startling  experiences  of  the  Eastern  men  who  went  west. 
AVhen  they  arrived  in  San  Antonio,  May  10th,  they 
gathered  by  pre-arrangement  at  the  best  hotel  in  the 
city.  They  made  elaborate  toilets  and  they  ordered  as 
fine  a  breakfast  as  San  Antonio  provided. 

"  It's  all  off  after  this,"  they  said  to  themselves,  and 
they  enjoyed  that  breakfast  with  great  joy.  There 
were  in  this  little  party,  G.  Ronald  Fortescue,  Henry  W. 
Sharp,  J.  B.  Tailor,  Henry  W.  Bull,  Kenneth  Robinson, 
William  Tudor,  Jr.,  R.  IT.  M.  Ferguson,  William  Quaid, 
Jr.,  II.  K.  Devereaux,  E.  C.  Waller,  Jr.,  George  Kemp, 

41 


THE    STORY    OF   THE   HOUGH   RIDERS. 


Maxwell  Norman,  J.  A,  Massie,  Woodbury  Kane, 
William  Tiffany,  "  Ham  "  Fish,  Craig  Wadsworth,  and 
Reginald  Ronalds.  After  the  breakfast  was  over,  it 
was,  as  they  had  said,  "  all  off." 
They  donned  their  flannel  shirts, 
their  duck  trousers,  and  their 
blouses,  put  on  their  campaign 
hats  and  went  to  work. 

They  were  assigned  sleeping 
quarters  in  a  somewhat  remote 
part  of  the  Exposition  building, 
evidently  on  the  theory  that  they 
and  the  Westerners  might  disagree, 
but  this  was  wrong.  For  instance, 
Woodbury  Kane  met  Henry  Rem- 
ming  and  formed  a  friendship  that 
day  which  lasted  all  through  Cuba. 
He  was  set  to  work  digging  a 
trench  in  front  of  the  officers'  quar 
ters,  and  finished  his  job  with  cheer 
fulness,  despite  his  blistered  hands 
and  stiffened  back.  Craig  Wads- 
worth  was  ordered  to  devote  two 
hours  to  chopping  wood.  Goodrich 
and  Kane  afterwards  took  lessons  in 
handling  lassoes,  and  got  badly 
tangled  up.  A  couple  of  days  later, 
a  rift  in  the  lute  appeared  when 
Tiffany  complained  that  he  had  no 
clean  shirt.  He  finally  got  a  pass, 
so  that  he  could  hunt  his  waslier- 
42 


THE  REGIMENT  AT  SAN  ANTONIO. 


woman  up,  and  was  unmercifully  guyed.  Poor  Tiffany 
—he  is  dead  now.  The  only  charge  of  favoritism  ever 
made  among  the  Rough  Riders  came  less  than  a  week 

after  Roosevelt  landed  in  San  An 
tonio.     Woodbury  Kane  was  given 

charge  of  the  rapid-fire  guns,  and 

Hamilton  Fish,  Craig  AVadsworth, 

and  Maxwell  Gorman  were  made 

non-commissioned  officers  in  Troop 

K.     The  Westerners  thought  for  a 

while    that    too    many   promotions 

were  being  given   to  the   Eastern 

men,  but  this  unpleasantness  soon 

blew  over. 

Much  excitement  was  created  at 

one    time    by    the    announcement 

that  Borrowe  was  keeping  his  valet 

at  a  hotel,  and  that  he  daily  made  a 

pilgrimage  to  the  place  to  shave  and 

take  a  bath.      The  valet  was  sent 

East.     The  same  day  a  New  Mexi 
can  cowboy  refused  point  blank  to 

obey  an  order  given  by  Sergeant 

Tiffany.     He  said,  "  Wait  till  you 

get  to  be  a  brigadier-general  before 

you  give  out  orders  in  such  a  high 

and  mighty  fashion,"  and  Tiffany 

made  threats  about  the  guardhouse. 

It  was  all  forgotten  in  a  day  or  two. 
This  same  day  two  members  of 

the    New    York    Stock    Exchange 

43 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  KOUGH  EIDERS. 

joined  the  regiment.  They  were  J.  Lorimer  Worden 
and  C.  E.  Knoblauch.  Worden  is  an  athlete,  and  Knob 
lauch  a  giant  who  boxes,  wrestles,  swims,  and  rides 
expertly. 

A  few  days  later,  Woodbury  Kane  had  trouble.  He 
sawed  up  an  ammunition  box  to  make  a  desk,  and  the 
ordnance  officer  called  him  picturesquely  down.  Kane 
was  extremely  sorry. 

Perhaps  the  most  impressive  day  in  San  Antonio  was 
Sunday,  May  22d.  The  whole  regiment,  fully  uni 
formed,  was  arrayed  in  squadron  formation  before 
Colonel  Wood's  tent  early  in  the  morning.  The  object 
was  the  reading  of  the  articles  of  war,  and  the  cere 
mony  lasted  nearly  an  hour  and  a  half.  The  stately  pas 
sages  were  pronounced  in  solemn  sentences  by  the  captains 
of  the  troops,  and  the  men  were  much  impressed.  After 
breakfast,  religious  services  were  held  in  the  great  Fair 
building,  and  twenty  Western  terrors  melodiously  acted 
as  the  choir.  The  only  instrumental  music  was  fur 
nished  by  a  silver  bugle  at  the  expert  lips  of  Trumpeter 
Cassi.  Loud  as  he  blew,  the  sound  of  his  cornet  was 
lost  in  the  fine  harmonies  of  the  cowboy  choir,  when 
they  started  in  with  "How  firm  a  foundation, "  and 
when  the  rest  of  the  regiment  joined  in  the  chorus,  the 
sturdy  singing  was  plainly  heard  in  San  Antonio,  a  mile 
away.  From  the  Arizona  plains  came  the  soloist.  He 
was  A.  K.  Perry,  and  famous  in  the  regiment  as  the 
best  bronco  buster  of  them  all,  but  his  untrained  voice 
was  clear  and  high  and  melodious,  and  when  he  sang 
"  Onward,  Christian  Soldiers/'  many  of  his  comrades 
cried. 

44 


THE    REGIMENT   AT   SAN   ANTONIO. 

San  Antonio  was  hot,  dusty,  and  disagreeable.  The 
men,  Easterners  and  Westerners  alike,  found  camp  life 
hard,  beyond  their  dreams.  The  officers  of  the  regiment 
worked  themselves  and  their  commands  night  and  day, 
in  order  to  make  soldiers  out  of  them,  and  no  regiment 
was  ever  put  into  fighting  shape  so  quickly.  .No  detail 
was  neglected  which  could  quickly  place  the  men  011  a 
par  with  the  regular  troops,  with  whom  they  would  be 
brought  into  competition  when  the  first  expedition  to 
Cuba  started,  and  the  men  took  it  all  cheerfully,  and  did 
their  work  with  gladness.  This  was  because  among 
them  there  was  but  one  thought — the  desire  to  go  on 
that  expedition. 

Officered  as  they  were,  with  the  President's  own 
medical  adviser  in  command,  and  the  ex- Assistant  Sec 
retary  of  the  Navy  as  their  lieutenant-colonel,  they  knew 
that  they  would  be  considered  kindly  when  the  opportu 
nity  came,  and  they  were  anxious  to  see  to  it  that  that 
consideration  found  no  flaws  in  them. 

When  Colonel  Wood  announced  to  the  men  that 
marching  orders  had  at  last  arrived,  the  news  was  re 
ceived  with  cheers  which  lasted  for  many  minutes.  In 
deed,  nothing  except  the  sound  of  taps  coming  from 
the  bugles  with  the  night,  could  still  the  exuberant 
spirits  which  infected  the  regiment.  ~No  wilder  hurrah 
was  heard  in  Cuba  when  we  learned  our  victories  than 
that  which  went  up  in  San  Antonio  when  marching 
orders  were  received.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Roosevelt 
read  the  message,  and  then  he  and  Colonel  Wood  em 
braced  like  schoolboys. 


47 


CHAPTER  III. 


AT  TAMPA,  AND 
THE  TRIP  TO  CUBA. 


It  was  on  May  JlHli  that  the  Rough  Itiders  went  away 

from  San   Antonio  with  hiph   hopes  in   their  hearts  thai 

they  would   not   pan.  e  long  again   until   they   panned   in 

^^^  ('iiha.       Indeed  they  had  bet. 

^^P  "  let'  luck   than  any  other  M  "i 

/  ^  ,  ,  meiit     in    the    army,    for    he 

tween    the.    embarkation    at 
San  Antonio  and  the  moment 

I  A^Mf    •  m        when  they  actually  faced  the 

K  &  •/        Spanish     bullets,     less     than 

^^E?        ^iLJ^Hf '  '       thirty  days  intervened, 

Kvery  captain    had   orders 
to    send     his    troops    to    bed 
_^^^  early     thai     Saturday    niglit, 

for    Wood   and    Itoosevelt    al 
ready     had     inklings    of    the 

imperfect  transportation  which  the  Government  could 
furnish  to  the  regiment.  They  knew  the  trip  before 
I  hem  would  be  lon^  and  wearisome,  and  they  wanted 
their  men  to  be  well  prepared  for  it. 

The  work  of  breaking  camp  took  nil  of  Saturday. 
( 'olonel  Wood  ordered  all  superfluous  baggage  left  be 
hind,  telling  the  men  that  they  could  take  with  them 
only  such  necessaries  as  they  could  find  room  for  in  their 

48 


AT  TAMI'A,    AM)  THE  THI1*  TO   Cl.'BA. 

blanket  rolls.  Hundreds  of  boxes  wore  sent  by  express 
that  day  to  Western  ranche's  and  Eastern  mansions. 
Kane',  Tiffany,  and  Konalds  gheepi&hly  admitted  that 
their  rejections  inelnded  tin1  swallowed -tailed  coats  and 
low-cut  vests  of  full  dress  suits.  .Just  why  these1  gentle 
men  took  dress  suits  to  war  with  them  I  do  not  know. 

The  last  packing  was  done  after  supper.  Then  most 
of  thc»  cooking  utensils  were  stowed  away,  leaving  the; 
men  only  their  blanket  rolls  to  pack,  and  their  shelter- 
tents  to  "  strike  "  (or  take  down),  before  they  started  on 
their  journey. 

At  three  o'clock  the  sweet  note's  of  reveille  rang  out, 
and  Camp  Wood  woke  up.  The  dawn  was  eool  and 
lovely,  and  the»  men  were  as  full  of  energy  as  they  after 
wards  proved  themselves  to  be  full  of  fight.  Breakfast 
was  a  hasty  meal,  prepared  under  great  difficulties,  be 
cause  so  many  of  the  cooking  utensils  had  been  packed 
up.  Drilled  as  they  had  been  in  the  preparation  of  the 
blanket  rolls,  there  were  those  among  the  men  who 
packed  the'irs  so  badly  that  many  of  their  little  treas 
ures  were  shaken  out  before  they  reached  the  railway. 
They  were  shaken  out  to  stay,  for  when  the  ride*  once 
started,  Colonel  Wornl  permitted  no  stoppage'. 

The  e»ars  intei  which  the  inert  were  hueldled  we»re»  in- 
finitely  le»ss  comfortable  than  the  e-ar*  making  up  the 
trains  on  which  most  e>f  the'  regular  troops  went  South. 
I  travelled  from  Chickamauga  to  Tampa  with  the'  Ninth 
Cavalry,  and  the  ne»gro  troopers  were  furnished  with 
emigrant  sleeping  cars.  The  men  of  the'  Hough  Rider* 
hael  no  such  luxury.  They  sle'pt  in  their  se»ats,  if  they 
slept  at  all. 

4  W 


THE   STORY    OF   THE    ROUGH   RIDERS. 

The  experiences  which  the  men  had  had  with  their 
"Western  horses  at  drill  and  regimental  manoeuvres,  were 
as  nothing  to  the  time  they  had  in  loading  them  on  the 
stock  cars  for  final  shipment.  It  is  well  here  to  call 
atention  to  the  fact  that  these  horses  were  practically 
neglected  during  the  five  days'  trip  which  followed. 
This  was  no  fault  of  the  regiment,  but  can  only  be  laid 
at  the  door  of  the  railway  companies. 

Roosevelt  left  on  the  last  section.  Wood  remained 
to  see  that  everything  got  off  all  right,  and  followed  on 
a  regular  passenger  train.  It  was  fully  half-past  ten 
at  night  before  that  third  section  pulled  out,  and  when 
it  went,  the  sleeping  car  berth  which  had  been  reserved 
for  Lieutenant-Colonel  Roosevelt  was  occupied  by  a 
private  soldier.  Roosevelt  found  him  suffering  from 
an  illness,  and  had  him  taken  in  and  put  to  bed.  From 
then  on,  until  the  regiment  reached  Tampa,  Roosevelt 
took  pot-luck  with  his  men  in  the  dingy  day  coaches 
which  Uncle  Sam  had  furnished  to  them. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  trouble  in  getting  food  for 
the  men  during  that  long  day's  wait  in  the  San  Antonio 
railway  yard.  Their  dinner  finally  consisted  of  a  thin 
slice  of  canned  beef  between  two  hardtacks.  This  was 
the  first  day  the  regiment  went  hungry.  Many  others 
followed  after  they  reached  Cuba. 

The  first  man  to  be  taken  sick  on  the  trip  was  Private 
Nicholson,  of  Troop  K.  His  home  was  Baltimore,  and 
he  had  the  measles.  It  is  believed  that  he  may  have 
carried  this  disease  into  the  regiment,  for  many  men 
afterwards  came  down  with  it. 

All  along  the  line  the  men  Avere  received  with  the 
,  50 


AT   TAMPA,    AND   THE   TKIP   TO   CUBA. 

utmost  enthusiasm  by  great  crowds  waiting  at  the  sta 
tions.  Even  as  early  as  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  in 
some  instances,  pretty  girls  were  dressed  in  white,  and 
waiting  to  give  them  posies  as  they  passed.  The  most 
enthusiastic  reception  of  all  occurred  at  Xew  Orleans, 
where  tremendous  crowds  were  at  the  Southern  Pacific 
and  Louisville  and  Xashville  stations  to  bid  them  God 
speed  as  they  passed  through.  There  were  unaccount 
able  delays,  and  for  hours  the  men,  who  were  kept 
closely  in  the  cars  by  guards  stationed  at  all  entrances, 
sweltered  and  sweated  in  the  heat  of  a  ^Tew  Orleans  day. 
They  bore  the  hardship  of  this  kind  of  travelling  with  a 
certain  rough  philosophy,  but  the  remarks  they  made 
about  the  railway  companies  are  not  printable  in  this 
volume.  They  were  dirty,  hot,  and  hungry,  and  while 
it  cannot  be  said  that  language  ever  suffers  from  dirt  or 
hunger,  that  used  by  the  Rough  Eiders  on  this  occasion 
was  certainly  hot. 

It  was  early  in  the  cool  dawn  that  the  regiment 
reached  Tampa.  It  was  dumped  without  consideration 
by  the  railway  company  at  Ybor  City,  although  it  could 
easily  have  been  taken  half  a  dozen  miles  nearer  to  its 
camping  place.  The  baggage  cars  were  run  off  into 
some  remote  district,  thoroughly  out  of  sight,  and  the 
regiment's  mess  kits  were  hidden  in  them.  They  had 
been  assigned  three  days'  rations.  Their  journey  had 
taken  five  days,  and  they  were  hungry.  Probably  a 
trooper's  remark  on  tins  occasion,  "  that  war  is  hell," 
was  spoken  with  more  feeling  than  marked  the  expres 
sion  of  any  sentiment  afterwards  during  the  entire  cam 
paign.  Roosevelt  and  Wood  were  both  wildly  indig- 

51 


THE   STOKY    OF   THE   KOUGH   lilDEHS. 

nant  over  the  way  the  regiment  had  been  treated  by  the 
railways.  Roosevelt  made  the  acquaintance  of  at  least 
a  dozen  officials  of  the  road  before  the  day  was  over, 
and  those  officials  can  be  classed  with  the  Spaniards 
whom  he  met  afterwards  and  who  never  wanted  to  renew 
their  communication  with  Colonel  Roosevelt.  So 
crowded  was  the  train  that  grain,  hay,  and  other  forage 
for  the  animals  had  to  be  packed  in  the  aisles  of  the  pas 
senger  coaches,  and  the  tops  of  the  freight  cars  carried 
tons  of  supplies  of  all  kinds. 

The  animals  were  unloaded  in  the  stock  pens,  and 
plainly  showed  the  effects  of  the  starvation  and  neglect 
which  they  had  suffered  on  the  way.  But  like  the  men, 
they  were  glad  enough  to  get  there,  no  matter  how. 

The  ride  from  the  point  of  disembarkation  to  the 
camping  grounds  was  not  less  than  eight  miles  long.  It 
was  made  with  some  pretense  of  troop  formation,  but  not 
much.  The  men  rode  through  Tampa,  with  its  filthy 
shanties  and  deserts  of  sand,  to  a  point  back  of  the 
Tampa  Bay  Hotel.  Their  destination  had  previously 
been  used  as  the  Sixth  Cavalry's  drill  ground. 

Not  much  effort  was  made  to  form  an  elaborate  camp 
here,  for  the  men  were  tired  and  it  was  the  belief  of 
everyone  that  they  were  only  pausing  for  a  day  or  two 
before  they  were  to  be  sent  to  the  transports  and  on  to 
Cuba.  They  simply  formed  in  lines — a  row  of  tents 
and  a  row  of  horses  at  their  picket  lines.  It  wras  not  a 
good  camping  ground.  Rains  were  frequent,  and  the 
formation  of  the  soil  was  such  that  the  water  would  not 
soak  in.  Those  who  had  the  money  were  comforted  by 
the  proximity  of  the  Tampa  Bay  Hotel,  but  those  who 

52 


AT   TAMPA,    AND   THE   TRIP   TO    CUBA. 

had  not,  were  less  pleasantly  situated  than  they  had 
been  in  San  Antonio.  The  arrangement  of  the  tents 
close  to  the  picket  lines  brought  a  plague  of  flies  about 
the  men,  and  Tampa  contributed  its  pleasant  little  share 
of  tarantulas  and  centipedes.  It  is  scarcely  worth  while 
to  go  into  great  detail  about  the  stay  of  the  men  at 
Tampa.  It  was  an  unpleasant  period,  but  it  was  only  pre 
liminary  to  the  embarkation.  It  was  simply  one  of  the 
necessary  evils  which  led  up  to  the  glorious  Cuban  cam 
paign,  and  the  men  have  forgotten  as  much  of  it  as  they 
can  forget. 

It  is  only  fair  here  to  make  some  slightly  detailed 
mention  of  Troops  C,  M,  I,  and  II.  These  included 
the  unfortunates  whose  memory  of  Tampa  is  their  mem 
ory  of  the  war.  Probably  no  grief  stands  out  as  more 
acute  and  painful  in  the  minds  of  the  men  who  formed 
these  troops  than  that  which  came  to  them  when  they 
found  that  they  were  to  be  left  behind.  Nearly  every 
regiment  of  the  army  was  forced  to  desert  some  of  its 
men  in  this  way,  and  the  men  who  stayed  behind  deserve 
quite  as  ample  credit  as  the  men  whose  privilege  it  was 
to  hurry  to  the  front.  Theirs  were  the  long  and  ag 
gravating  days  of  inactive  discomfort;  of  weary,  weary 
waiting.  Major  Ilersey  was  left  in  command  of  those 
who  stayed  in  Tampa.  After  Major  Brodie  was 
wounded  and  promoted  to  the  lieutenant-colonelcy,  Cap 
tain  Jenkins  was  made  the  junior  major,  and  through 
a  special  dispensation  from  General  Coppinger,  Ilersey 
became  the  ranking  major,  and  joined  the  regiment  in 
the  field.  Afterwards,  Major  Dunn  took  command  at 
Tampa.  The  troops  at  Tampa  suffered  terribly  from 

53 


THE  STOKY  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS. 

sickness.  For  instance,  there  were  eighty-three  men  in 
C  Troop.  When  the  war  was  over,  and  they  finally 
started  North,  only  forty-five  men  were  left  who  could 
travel,  or  who  had  not  already  been  sent  North.  It  has 
been  shown  that  the  men  in  Tampa  really  suffered  more 
from  sickness  than  the  men  who  went  to  Cnba.  The 
hospitals  were  so  overcrowded  that  it  was  almost  im 
possible  to  find  room  for  ailing  Rough  Riders  there, 
and  many  sufferers  from  typhoid  and  typhus-malaria 
were,  perforce,  neglected.  Scarcely  a  hospital  train 
went  North  which  did  not  carry  with  it  some  of  these 
unfortunate  Rough  Riders,  and  the  lot  of  the  men  in 
Tampa  was  generally  unhappy.  They  had  eleven  hun 
dred  horses  and  mules  to  look  after.  Reveille  was 
habitually  sounded  at  4.30.  Drill  came  on  at  5.80  and 
lasted  until  8.30  or  9,  and  after  that  the  men  performed 
such  dreary  camp  work  as  came  in  their  daily  routine. 
Then  they  could  only  lie  in  their  shelter-tents  out  of 
the  sun,  and  spend  the  horrid  days  in  fighting  mosquitoes, 
flies,  and  heat. 

Their  only  hope  was  that  they  might  be  ordered  to  the 
front.  Three  times  the  glad  news  came.  They  were 
instructed  to  prepare  their  goods  and  strike  their  tents. 
The  last  time  they  were  even  told  that  transportation 
was  all  ready  for  them,  and  that  the  ship  which  was  to 
carry  them  on  to  Cuban  battlefields  lay  anchored,  ready, 
in  Savannah  harbor.  But  each  time  when  they  were 
prepared  to  start,  their  orders  were  countermanded,  and 
the  dreary,  dreary  hopeless  days  at  Tampa  began  again. 
I  should  have  said  before  that  the  camp  of  this  waiting 
contingent  was  transferred  from  Tampa  to  Port  Tampa, 

54 


AT   TAMPA,    AND   THE    TRIP   TO    CUBA. 

after  their  more  fortunate  companions  had  sailed  away, 
and  that  the  sanitary  conditions  were  as  good  as  any. 

An  episode  of  the  days  at  Tampa  was  the  football 
game.  There  were  a  good  many  football  players  in  the 
regiment,  and  some  of  them  had  college  records  not  ex 
celled.  The  game  was  progressing  merrily,  when  Ham 
ilton,  the  strong  man,  from  Indian  Territory,  who  had 
been  to  town  as  Major  Hersey's  orderly,  came  along. 
He  could  not  keep  out  of  the  game  and  forgot  that  he 
still  had  his  spurs  on.  He  jumped  for  Ricketts  and  Mc- 
Farrin,  who  had  played  on  the  University  of  Pennsyl 
vania  team.  There  was  scarcely  a  man  in  the  scrimmage 
that  ensued  who  left  it  without  wounds  from  Hamilton's 
spurs. 

The  newspapers  have  already  told  the  story  of  how 
the  troops  were  loaded  on  the  transports;  how  the  trans 
ports  sailed  out  into  Tampa  Bay,  and  how  the  spectre 
of  a  mythical  Spanish  fleet  drove  them  ingloriously  back 
to  their  docks. 

Finally  they  started.  The  troops  on  board  the  "  Yu 
catan  "  were  A  and  B,  from  Arizona;  D,  from  Okla 
homa;  E,  F,  and  G,  from  New  Mexico;  K  from  the  East, 
and  L  from  Indian  Territory.  There  was  also  a  part 
of  the  Second  Infantry  on  board,  with  its  regimental 
band. 

There  had  been  the  wildest  excitement  and  heart 
burning  among  the  men  when  it  was  found  that  some 
troops  were  to  be  left  behind  and  some  were  to  be  chosen 
to  go  to  Cuba.  There  was  not  a  man  in  the  whole 
regiment  who  did  not  voice  in  his  heart  that  cry  which 
he  shouted  from  his  lips: 

55 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

"Rough,  tough,  we're  the  stuff, 
We  want  to  fight,  and  we  can't  get  enough." 

But  there  were  those  of  them  who  were  to  see  no 
fighting  and  they  took  their  disappointment  then  as 
bravely  as  their  comrades  afterwards  took  their  danger, 
although  the  danger  was  much  more  welcome  than  the 
disappointment.  Knowledge  of  the  troops  which  had 
been  selected  was  spread  throughout  the  regiment  the 
night  before,  and  there  were  those  among  the  Rough 
Riders  who  worked  for  transfer  to  the  troops  which  were 
to  sail  under  the  favored  letters.  More  demonstrative 
than  the  others,  because  they  were  of  the  elect,  were 
Woodbury  Kane  and  Lieutenant  Tiffany,  who  had  been 
among  the  most  ardent  workers  from  the  start.  These 
two  men  had  done  more,  perhaps,  than  any  others  to 
persuade  the  Westerners  that  because  a  man  came  from 
the  East,  and  because  he  was  college  bred,  lie  did  not 
necessarily  shirk  his  tasks  nor  fall  off  his  horse. 

The  day  of  embarkation  was  a  great  day.  Sergeant 
Iliggins  expressed  it  well  when  he  remarked: 

"  Hell  won't  be  worse  crowded  on  the  last  day  than 
this  dock  is  now." 

I  have  inserted  a  photograph  of  the  embarkation  in 
the  book,  and  its  wild  mix-up  only  slightly  pictures  the 
insane  confusion  of  the  scene.  On  the  transport,  the 
quarters  were  anything  but  pleasant.  Most  of  the 
bunks  were  in  the  vessel's  hold — and  she  was  a  rattle 
trap  old  hulk  that  had  been  used  in  the  freight-carrying 
trade — and  they  were  badly  built  of  rough  and  unplaned 
lumber.  The  work  of  the  contractors  who  had  put 
the  berths  up,  proved  to  be  so  inefficient  that  many 

56 


AT   TAMPA,    AND   THE   TRIP   TO    CUBA. 

of  them  fell  down  when  the  men  piled  into  them  the  first 
night.  After  that  those  particular  Rough  Riders  were 
without  beds.  At  the  best,  the  bunks  were  so  close  to 
gether  that  the  men  could  move  about  between  them 
only  with  the  very  greatest  difficulty,  and  when  they 
crawled  into  them  at  night  they  found  them  so  narrow 
that  turning  over  ordinarily  meant  splinters  in  their 
skins. 

The  transport's  capacity  was  750  men.  At  first  1,060 
men  were  on  board.  One  hundred  were  afterwards  re 
moved  to  another  ship.  Early  in  the  voyage  a  waggish 
trooper  hung  the  sign,  "  Standing  Room  Only,"  over 
the  side  of  the  ship. 

Another  came  along,  and  with  the  same  marking  pot 
added:  "And  damn  little  of  that." 

In  the  meantime,  of  course,  such  luxuries  as  artificial 
ventilation  had  been  utterly  neglected,  and  the  room  on 
deck  was  greatly  circumscribed  by  the  building  of  a 
rough  board  superstructure.  A  little  space  was  left 
clear,  fore  and  aft  of  this,  and  if  the  men  wanted  air  they 
had  to  seek  these  spaces,  trust  themselves  to  the  some 
what  shaky  roof  of  the  superstructure,  or  cling  to  the 
swaying  shrouds. 

It  was  on  the  first  day  out  that  the  third  man  wounded 
met  his  injury.  Thomas  II.  Young,  who  was  the  son  of 
a  Kentucky  colonel,  and  whose  father  had  applied  for 
enlistment  at  the  same  time  the  son  had,  had  a  good 
place  to  sleep,  where  the  fresh  air  came  in  through  the 
cargo  hatch.  He  had  been  a  student  in  a  K"ew  York 
law  school  and  had  shown  himself  to  be  an  excellent 
soldier.  Tie  had  especially  won  the  favor  of  ^Fcriiu- 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

tock,  who  was  the  captain  of  his  troop,  and  was  slated 
for  a  non-commissioned  officer  ship,  but  that  unlucky  day 
a  heavy  cargo  stanchion  fell  down  on  him  and  crushed 
his  arm  and  head. 

Young  was  one  of  half  a  dozen  men  who  were  taken 
to  the  hospital  ship  "  Olivette  "  from  the  "  Yucatan/7 
during  the  voyage  to  Cuba.  I  sailed  down,  as  well  as 
home,  on  the  "  Olivette,"  and,  with  other  correspondents, 
crowded  eagerly  to  the  rail  at  first  whenever  we  heard 
that  Rough  Riders  were  to  be  brought  aboard.  After 
the  first  two  or  three  had  arrived,  however,  we  held  with 
equal  firmness  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  hospital  ship, 
when  such  news  came,  for  Young  was  the  only  Rough 
Rider  who  voyaged  with  us  who  did  not  suffer  from 
some  contagious  or  infectious  disease.  There  were  cases 
of  measles,  there  were  cases  of  typhoid,  and  there  was  one 
case  of  scarlet  fever  brought  to  us  from  the  regiment. 

Aside  from  these  slight  episodes,  the  trip  to  Cuba 
was  uneventful  to  the  Rough  Riders.  In  the  history  of 
warfare  no  such  imposing  array  of  troopships  had  ever 
been  gathered  together  to  carry  an  invading  army. 
Thirty-four  transports,  arranged  in  three  great  lines, 
steaming  so  slowly  that  the  alignment  could  be  very 
well  kept  up,  convoyed  by  one  of  the  greatest  battleships 
afloat,  and  by  cruisers  and  gunboats,  made  a  spectacle 
which  every  man  who  watched,  realized  was  great,  and 
in  thinking  of  it,  each  man  made  the  first  letter  of  his 
thought  a  capital  letter.  Great  in  his  mind,  during  that 
voyage,  began  with  a  tremendous  G-. 

We  went  down  on  the  inside  of  the  Florida  coast,  and 
the  first  sign  we  had  that  there  really  was  any  Cuba  on 

58 


lYom  a  photograph  by  William  Dinwiddie. 

Col.  Leonard  Wood  in  consultation  with  Lieut.- C'ol.  Roosevelt  at  Daiquiri. 


AT   TAMPA,    AND   THE   TRIP   TO   CUBA. 

the  map,  was  the  flashing  of  great  searchlights  thrown 
from  Morro  Castle  in  Havana  against  the  midnight  sky. 
The  "  Seguraiie,a  "  was  the  flagship.  She  was  not  a 
pretty  boat,  but  she  steamed  at  nine  knots  while  we 
steamed  at  less  than  five,  and  thus  made  her  way  about 
among  us  with  some  facility.  In  the  meantime,  signal 
men  were  always  wigwagging  to  the  other  boats  from 
her  dingy  bridge,  and  smutty  little  torpedo  boats  were 
ever  dodging  about  among  the  fleet,  giving  orders  from 
her  as  to  formation — as  to  who  should  come  forward  and 
who  should  fall  back. 

There  were  things  which  happened,  before  we  passed 
Cape  Maisi,  of  which  we  had  110  knowledge.  The 
Spanish  papers  have,  since  the  war,  told  of  a  trip  which 
one  of  their  torpedo-boat  destroyers  made  through  the 
middle  of  our  fleet  on  a  foggy  midnight,  when  she  did 
not  know  whether  she  was  among  friends  or  foes;  when 
she  did  not  know  whether  to  fire  or  hold  her  ammunition, 
and  when  she  was  suddenly  enlightened  by  a  sturdy 
hail  from  the  bridge  of  one  of  our  warships,  asking  her 
if  she  were  the  "  Porter,"  one  of  our  torpedo  boats. 
The  Spaniards  promptly  answered,  "  Yes,"  and  when  the 
warship  threw  her  searchlight  round,  showing  six  or 
eight  American  ships  in  sight,  she  skipped  for  the  Cuban 
coast  and  safety  with  all  the  rapidity  there  was  within 
her  boilers. 

The  "  Yankee,"  an  American  gunboat,  converted 
from  a  millionaire's  steam  yacht,  also  nearly  opened  fire 
upon  us  when  our  flagship  failed  to  give  the  proper  night 
signal.  But  of  these  perils  our  men,  Rough  Riders  and 
other  troops  alike,  were  wholly  ignorant. 

61 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH    EIDERS. 

As  our  troopships  passed  Santiago,  a  shot  was  fired 
at  only  one  of  them,  and  that  ship,  strangely  enough, 
was  named  the  "  Santiago."  The  thing  with  the  Rough 
Eiders  was  still  a  picnic  and  not  war.  Indeed  there 
were  dead  among  them  before  they  learned  that  war  is 
grim  and  Avar  is  awful  and  war  is  real. 

So  far  as  the  trip  on  the  transports  was  concerned, 
much  more  excitement  was  occasioned  by  pat  hands  at 
poker  than  was  ever  caused  by  dread  of  Spaniards. 

Here  is  a  story  told  by  Col.  Henry  Wigham,  an  officer 
on  the  staff  of  the  Governor  of  Arizona,  and  one  of  the 
men  who  helped  to  organize  the  Hough  Riders: 

"  Among  the  troopers  was  a  cowboy  named  Frank 
Briggs.  He  was  a  dead  shot,  a  reckless  frontiersman, 
and  a  good,  game  sport.  Briggs  wrote  a  letter  to  me 
after  he  had  gone  on  board  the  transport,  which  I  re 
ceived  at  Tampa,  and  which  said  in  part : 

"  '  I  won  $200  last  night  and  $400  the  night  before. 
There  is  money  to  burn  on  this  boat.  If  Charlie  will 
only  send  me  the  dice  he  promised,  I  will  be  Avell 
stamped.'  ' 

A  letter  from  an  officer  afterwards,  to  Colonel  AYig- 
ham,  spoke  of  the  splendid  work  by  Briggs,  at  Las 
Guasimas.  He  was  as  cool  and  accurate  as  though  he 
had  been  in  a  turkey  shoot  back  home,  instead  of  in  a 
battle  on  an  enemy's  hillside. 

"  Officers'  school  "  was  held  every  day  in  the  morning, 
and  in  the  afternoon  the  men  were  trained  in  handling 
Krag-Jorgenson  carbines.  Colonel  Wood  feared  that 
the  men  would  suffer  from  their  inactivity  during  the 
trip,  and  made  them  exercise,  as  do  the  sailors  on  board 

G3 


AT   TAMPA,    AND   THE    TRIP    TO    CUBA. 

a  inan-o'-war.  It  was  a  great  lark  for  them  to  put  their 
hands  on  one  another's  shoulders  and  rush  about  in  a 
kind  of  trotting  lock-step  for  an  hour  and  a  half  each 
day. 

The  first  Cuban  land  that  came  in  sight  was  the  blue 
point  of  Cape  Maisi.  The  men  cheered  it  with  great 
enthusiasm,  as  they  slowly  ploughed  through  the  south 
eastern  passage.  For  a  full  half  day  before  they  landed, 
they  again  had  sight  of  the  hazy  shores  of  Cuba  and 
their  cheering  wearied. 

Their  first  hurrahs  at  sight  of  Cuba  were  not  so  hearty 
as  the  cheers  they  gave  Avhen  they  parted  from  it,  less 
than  fifty  days  later. 

This  reminds  me  of  a  story  told  of  Mr.  W.  R.  Hearst. 
It  is  said  that  when  he  first  landed  in  Cuba  and  looked 
about — at  the  umbrageous  growth,  at  the  fertile  soil, 
at  the  towering  palms,  at  the  flitting  birds,  at  the 
fragrant  flowers — he  remarked  to  George  Pancoast,  who 
was  with  him: 

"My  God!  how  could  this  paradise  have  been  aban 
doned  to  mere  savages?  " 

A  month  later,  as  he  sailed  away  upon  the  "  Silvia," 
a  special  ship  which  he  had  chartered  to  take  him  North, 
he  stood  calmly  at  the  rail  and  gazed  with  satisfaction  at 
his  last  blue  glimpse  of  Cuba.  When  he  had  found  that 
Paradise,  he  had  been  well  and  strong,  his  muscles  and 
his  mind  had  overflowed  with  energy,  his  enthusiasm  had 
been  great.  That  day,  as  he  leaned  against  the  rail,  the 
high  temperature  of  Cuban  fever  burned  his  skin,  Ins 
pulse  beat  140  to  the  minute,  and  his  eyes,  erstwhile  so 
bright,  were  yellow  and  bloodshot. 

63 


THE   STOKY    OF   THE    KG  UGH   EIDERS. 

He   shook   his   fist   at    Cuba   on   this   occasion,    and 

said: 

"  My  God !  how  can  even  savages  live  there  ?  " 

On  the  22d  of  June,  the  Rough  Riders  made  their 

landing  at  Daiquiri. 


64 


CHAPTER  IV* 

IN  CUBA, 

BEFORE  THE  FIGHTING. 

It  was  at  Daiquiri  that  I  first  saw  the  Rough  Riders. 
I  had  happened  to  go  away  from  Tampa  on  the  very 
day  they  reached  there,  and  had  returned  only  in  time 
to  embark  long  after  the  "'  Yucatan  "  and  its  cargo  of 
First  Volunteer  Cavalry  men  was  out  of  sight. 

I  was  among  the  first  to  land,  because  there  was  a 
Journal  tugboat  there  to  help  me  get  ashore.  While  I 
was  watching  the  soldiers  of  the  regular  troops  disem 
bark  at  the  dock,  the  first  boatload  of  Rough  Riders  came 
along.  This  dock  was  a  mere  skeleton.  The  Spaniards 
had  ripped  the  planking  off  it  before  they  retired,  and, 
although  there  were  thousands  of  feet  of  loose  boards 
stacked  up  on  shore,  our  men  were  in  too  great  a  hurry 
to  nail  them  on  the  bare  timbers  which  had  been  left. 
The  engineers,  who  might  have  done  this  work,  had 
been  sent  down  the  coast  to  build  pontoon  bridges  for 
the  Cubans,  and  so  the  United  States  army  picked  a 
precarious  way  ashore  over  slippery  wooden  girders. 

This  gave  the  Rough  Riders  their  first  opportunity 
to  distinguish  themselves  in  Cuba.  Our  soldiers,  laden 
down  with  blanket  rolls,  ammunition  belts,  arms,  and 
other  heavy  equipment,  climbed  up  to  the  dock  from 
the  tossing  surf  boats  with  the  utmost  difficulty.  The 
sea  dashed  quite  over  the  dock  at  times,  and  the  wet 
5  65 


THE   STOKY   OF   THE   KOUGH   EIDERS. 

timbers  afforded  slight  hold  for  either  hands  or  feet. 
The  men  were  thoroughly  occupied  in  keeping  their  own 
balance,  and  frequently  could  not  avoid  letting  some  of 
their  impedimenta  slip  from  their  hands  into  the  boiling 
waters  below  the  dock.  There  lay  bugles,  guns,  re 
volvers,  canteens,  and  other  pieces  of  equipment  galore. 
In  the  boat-load  of  Rough  Riders,  which  I  have  men 
tioned,  were  C.  E.  Knoblauch,  whom  I  have  already 
spoken  of  as  a  member  of  the  New  York  Stock  Exchange, 
and  several  other  expert  swimmers.  They  quickly 
volunteered  to  rescue  the  lost  articles,  and  stripped  for 
the  work.  All  day  long  they  plied  at  this  thankless 
task. 

Along  toward  night,  while  the  Tenth  Cavalry  was 
struggling  ashore,  two  of  its  colored  troopers  slipped  off 
the  dock  and  went  down  into  the  boiling  sea  among  the 
crunching  boats  and  jagged  rocks.  Knoblauch,  Buckle 
O'Neil,  and  their  companions  worked  as  never  men 
worked  before  to  save  these  two  poor  chaps  from 
drowning,  but  the  task  was  too  great  for  human 
strength,  and  they  had  to  make  their  way  to  shore 
as  best  they  could — crestfallen  and  unsuccessful.  The 
men  who  Avere  drowned  were  the  first  victims  of  the  same 
lack  of  foresight  which  afterwards  cost  so  many  lives 
at  Bloody  Angle,  and  the  men  who  tried  to  save  them 
were  the  first  men  who  had  an  opportunity  to  develop 
heroism  during  the  land  operations  of  the  Spanish- 
American  War. 

So  the  Rough  Riders  were  "  in  it  "  at  the  start. 

Over  at  the  right  of  Daiquiri  a  sugar-loaf  mountain 
rose  sheer  a  thousand  feet.  It  was  called  Mount  Losil- 

66 


IN    CUBA,    BEFOEE   THE    FIGHTING. 

tires.  On  the  very  summit  of  this  strangely  shaped  hill 
was  a  blockhouse.  All  the  morning,  during  the  bom 
bardment,  we  had  watched  this  tiny  fortification  with 
the  greatest  interest.  It  offered  a  shining  mark  for  the 
gunners  of  the  attacking  ships,  and  probably  a  hundred 
shells  were  aimed  at  it.  Many  struck  near  it,  and  as 
Ave  watched  the  clouds  of  smoke  and  dust  resulting  from 
their  explosions  slowly  clear  away,  we  expected  to  find 
that  the  blockhouse  had  been  annihilated.  But  when 
the  bombardment  ended,  it  still  stood  there,  outlined 
sharply  and  saucily  against  the  Cuban  noonday  sky.  At 
its  side  there  rose  a  flagstaff. 

I  tried  to  borrow  a  flag  of  a  number  of  transport  cap 
tains,  but  with  that  charming  indifference  to  any  patri 
otic  idea  which  they  exhibited  from  beginning  to  end. of 
the  war,  they  unanimously  refused  to  let  me  have  one. 
I  had  in  my  possession  a  small  flag  belonging  to  the  New 
York  Journal;  I  decided  to  raise  that  flag  as  the  first 
to  be  set  flying  over  Cuba  by  anyone  connected  with  the 
United  States  army. 

There  never  was  a  harder  climb  than  the  one  by  which 
I  reached  the  summit  of  Mount  Losiltires.  There  had 
been  a  path  up  the  side  of  the  mountain,  zigzagging  and 
rough  at  best  no  doubt,  but  now  almost  entirely  oblit 
erated  in  places  by  the  terrific  explosions  of  our  shells. 
In  one  place  a  hole  not  less  than  ten  feet  deep  and 
three  times  as  far  across  had  literally  scooped  out  the 
side  of  the  mountain — path  and  all.  I  never  did  harder 
work  than  I  did  in  getting  around  this  hole,  clinging 
with  hands  and  feet  to  tiny  projections  and  little  shrubs. 
AVilliam  Bengough,  a  Journal  artist,  had  started  with 

67 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

me,  but  the  heat  and  the  climb  proved  too  much  for  him, 
and  he  stopped  to  rest  before  we  reached  the  hole.  Fi 
nally  I  scrambled  up  to  the  summit. 

The  sun  was  blistering  hot  and  the  climb  had  ex 
hausted  me.  I  sat  down  to  get  my  wind.  While  I 
was  sitting  there,  Surgeon  La  Motto,  Color-Sergeant 
Wright,  and  Trumpeter  Platt,  of  the  Hough  Eiders, 
came  up  by  another  and  easier  trail. 

They  had  with  them  the  nag  which  had  been  pre 
sented  to  Captain  McClintock's  troop  by  the  ladies  of 
Phoenix,  Arizona.  It  was  a  beautiful  silk  flag  and  it 
is  now  a  flag  with  a  history.  This  history  will  be  found 
elsewhere  in  this  volume. 

We  consulted  as  to  the  best  means  of  raising  it.  There 
were  no  lanyards  on  the  weather-beaten  old  pole  which 
the  Spaniards  had  left  behind  them.  We  tried  to  de 
vise  a  scheme  of  putting  a  flag  up  on  that,  but  it  was 
too  small  and  slippery  to  climb,  and  we  gave  the  notion 
up.  Just  at  this  moment  the  only  patriotic  civilian 
sailor  that  I  saw  during  the  Avhole  war,  came  climbing 
slowly  over  the  edge  of  the  hill.  I  have  forgotten  his 
name;  I  wish  I  had  it.  The  Rough  Eiders  had  inves 
tigated  the  blockhouse  and  found  a  little  ladder  inside, 
long  enough  to  reach  up  to  the  tiny  cupola  with  its 
loopholes.  Wright  and  Platt  had  found  this  ladder, 
and  presently  Platt  appeared  on  his  knees  on  the  hot, 
slippery  tin  roof.  He  remained  on  his  knees  not  more 
than  five  consecutive  seconds.  The  roof  was  too  steep 
and  Platt  came  to  grief  with  great  rapidity. 

Then  we  paused  for  consultation.  We  had  the  flag, 
we  were  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  the  blockhouse  and  the 


IN   CUBA,    BEFORE    THE    FIGHTING. 

flagpole  were  there  to  our  hands,  but  we  could  see  no 
way  of  carrying  out  our  brilliant  design.  Around  the 
edge  of  the  hill  the  Spaniards  had  dug  trenches  and  built 
outside  of  them  a  low  stone  wall.  Color-Sergeant 
Wright  took  the  flag  on  its  own  flagstaff,  and  waved  it 
from  this  wall.  Eengough  came  up  and  made  a  sketch 
of  him  as  he  stood  there.  I  have  it  in  my  possession. 

Then  the  patriotic  sailor  whom  I  have  mentioned,  and 
who  had  been  quietly  and  with  some  amusement  watch 
ing  our  efforts,  volunteered  his  services.  Wright  and 
Platt  lost  themselves  in  speechless  admiration  as  he  crept 
like  a  cat  out  on  the  slippery  roof.  Wright  had  diffi 
culty  in  finding  words  to  express  his  amazement,  a  mo 
ment  later,  when  the  sailor  rose  to  his  feet,  and  lashed 
the  flag  of  the  Rough  Riders,  staff  and  all,  to  the  little 
timber  which  stuck  from  the  peak  of  the  blockhouse. 

The  little  bay  in  which  the  transports  were  anchored 
lay  like  a  sheet  of  silver  in  front  of  us.  Between  it  and 
the  foot  of  our  hill  the  coast  of  Cuba  stretched  like  a 
map.  The  ships  looked  like  toy  ships  from  our  point 
of  vantage,  and  our  soldiers  looked  like  toy  soldiers. 
The  flag  had  been  waving  in  the  breeze  perhaps  a  min 
ute  before  these  toy  soldiers  and  the  men  on  those  toy 
ships  got  sight  of  it.  And  when  they  did,  bedlam  broke 
loose.  Every  steam  whistle  on  the  warships  screamed  its 
loudest,  every  soldier  in  the  invading  thousands  yelled 
his  hoarsest,  and  the  Cubans,  proud  of  the  new  Lee  rifles 
which  had  been  distributed  among  them  by  the  navy, 
fired  them  off  in  greeting  volleys  to  the  bit  of  red,  white, 
and  blue  which  fluttered  brightly  at  the  top  of  Mount 
Losil  tires. 

G9 


THE   STORY    OF   THE    ROUGH   RIDERS. 

Thus  the  Rough  Riders  won  their  second  glory.  They 
had  developed  the  first  army  heroes  in  the  war,  and  now 
they  had  flown  the  first  flag  raised  by  the  United  States 
army  on  Cuban  soil. 

I  remember  with  considerable  interest  an  episode 
which  occurred  before  we  left  the  top  of  the  hill.  The 
three  Rough  Riders  who  were  present  proved  themselves 
to  be  fine  soldiers  before  the  wrar  was  over,  but  on  the 
afternoon  of  that  22d  of  June  we  came  near  losing  two 
of  them. 

It  was  evident  that  the  Spaniards  had  left  their 
trenches  up  there  with  considerable  haste,  for  behind 
them  remained  many  abandoned  trappings.  The  com 
manding  officer,  for  instance,  had  left  the  orders  which 
had  been  sent  to  him  from  headquarters  and  copies  of 
his  own  replies  to  them.  One  of  his  letters  was  amusing, 
found  as  it  was  in  the  midst  of  an  abandoned  post,  which 
had  fired  not  one  answering  shot  to  our  bombardment. 
It  was  addressed  to  General  Toral,  and  announced  that 
he,  the  officer  on  Mount  Losiltires,  would  take  great 
pleasure  in  getting  along  without  reinforcements,  and 
that,  should  the  American  army  appear,  backed  by  the 
entire  navy  of  the  -United  States,  lie  could  whip  them 
and  drive  them  back  to  Florida,  single  handed  and  with 
out  difficulty. 

But  as  I  have  said,  when  the  army  did  come,  he  fired 
not  one  single  shot  in  opposition  to  its  landing. 

Being  a  Spaniard,  he  adopted  other  means  to  accom 
plish  our  undoing.  There  were  many  bottles  of  wine 
among  the  rubbish  which  the  Spaniards  had  left  behind 
them  in  the  blockhouse,  and  there  were  other  bottles  of 

70 


IN    CUBA,    BEFORE    THE    FIGHTING. 

wine  lying  outside  the  blockhouse  and  on  the  stone  wall 
and  in  the  trenches.  They  lay  there  very  ostentatiously. 
Xo  one  could  possibly  fail  to  see  them.  It  was  a  hot 
day.  The  exertion  of  getting  up  the  hill  and  raising 
the  flag  had  been  tremendous.  That  wine  looked  most 
inviting.  "Wright  and  Platt  had  opened  a  bottle  and 
were  about  to  drink  of  it,  when  Surgeon  La  Motte  .took  it 
from  them  and  smelled  it.  He  threw  the  bottle  on  a 
rock,  where  it  was  dashed  to  fragments.  Then  he  took 
the  copper  binding  of  an  exploded  six-inch  shell,  and 
with  it  broke  every  other  bottle  of  that  wine  which  the 
Spanish  commanding  officer  had  kindly  left  for  the 
comfort  and  entertainment  of  the  American  army. 

Wright  and  Platt  had  had  a  narrow  escape. 

The  wine  was  poisoned. 

We  made  our  way  down  the  hill  and  left  the  flag- 
behind  us,  to  float  there  proudly  until  sunset. 

The  Rough  Riders  were  encamped  in  a  beautiful  val 
ley  between  the  two  low  ranges  of  pretty  hills  which 
border  the  Daiquiri  River.  They  had  with  them  only 
"  dog  tents,"  and  the  grass  in  the  valley  was  higher  than 
the  tents.  This  grass  was  full  of  land  crabs  and  tarantu 
las.  Xice  little  lizards,  too,  scuttled  about  here  and 
there,  and  there  were  some  extremely  suspicious-looking 
snakes. 

Colonel  Wood  and  Colonel  Roosevelt  did  not  main 
tain  such  military  discipline  in  the  construction  of  their 
camp  as  did  some  of  the  other  commanding  officers,  and 
the  dog  tents  went  up  in  a  somewhat  haphazard  fashion. 
As  soon  as  they  were  up  and  the  men  discovered  their 
discomfort,  they  set  about  constructing  for  themselves 

71 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

more  pleasant  shelters.  Neighboring  shrubbery  was 
drawn  upon  for  uprights  and  leafy  boughs,  and  some 
good-natured  Cubans  instructed  our  gallant  fighters  in 
the  mysteries  of  palm  thatches.  Before  night  fell,  fully 
a  quarter  of  the  men  were  comfortably  housed  under 
these  impromptu  roofs.  Regimental  headquarters  were 
positively  embowered  through  the  efforts  of  solicitous 
troopers.  Probably  no  officers  ever  looked  more  care 
fully  after  the  comfort  of  their  men,  and  certainly  no 
men  ever  looked  more  carefully  after  the  comfort  of 
their  officers. 

As  the  quick-setting  sun  went  down  red  and  fiery 
behind  the  hills,  this  Cuban  solitude  which  had  suddenly 
been  transformed  into  the  abiding  place  of  six  hundred 
men,  with  its  myriad  camp  fires  twinkling  gayly,  its 
cheery  bugle  calls  and  active  bustle,  presented  as  beau 
tiful  a  picture  as  the  brush  of  a  painter  could  desire. 

Travelling  with  the  regiment  was  Burr  Mclntosh,  also 
of  the  Journal,  and  a  well-known  actor.  Mclntosh  was 
affected  with  that  prying  curiosity  which  leads  a  journal 
ist  to  news,  and  sometimes  into  trouble.  The  first  evi 
dence  of  it  came  when  he  decided  to  test  the  speed  of  two 
tarantulas.  At  Tampa  the  boys  had  organized  exciting 
races  in  which  land  turtles  were  the  participants;  Mc 
lntosh  decided  to  try  tarantulas.  He  did.  They  didn't 
speed  to  any  appreciable  extent,  but  they  bit  him  with 
amazing  rapidity.  We  wondered  if  journalism  and  the 
stage  were  about  to  lose  a  shining  light.  Surgeon  La 
Motte  did  his  best.  Mclntosh,  Major  Brodie,  Sergeant 
Hamilton  Fish,  and  one  or  two  others  planned  to  tour 
the  place  in  search  of  that  celebrated  medicine  which  is 

72 


IN    CUBA,    BEFORE   THE    FIGHTING. 

given  so  freely  in  Xew  Jersey  as  a  cure  for  snake  bite. 
There  was  no  whiskey  in  the  camp.  They  searched  else 
where  with  commendable  persistence.  There  was  no 
whiskey  in  any  other  camp.  They  walked  eagerly  up 
the  straggling  little  street,  wThich  has  its  beginning  near 
the  now  celebrated  skeleton  dock.  At  last  they  found 
a  storehouse  full  of  Jamaica  rum  and  great  demijohns 
of  sweet  Spanish  wine.  They  tried  the  rum  and  found 
it  raw,  even  beyond  the  endurance  of  a  Rough  Rider. 
They  carried  a  great  demijohn  of  the  wine  back  to  camp 
with  them. 

Mclntosh  did  not  die 
of  the  tarantula  bites, 
but  when  he  woke  the 
next  morning  to  a  reali 
zation  of  the  kind  of 
head  which  sweet  Span 
ish  wine  is  capable  of 

.  That  Sweet  Spanish  Wine. 

putting  on  a  journalist 

and  actor,  he  was  sorry  that  he  had  not.  He  did  not 
drink  all  of  the  wine,  and  there  were  others.  T  will  not 
mention  names,  because  these  men  are  now  looked  up  to 
as  heroes  by  a  grateful  American  public,  and  it  would  be 
cruel  to  take  from  them  their  laurels,  but  there  Avere 
those  among  the  Rough  Riders  who,  however  bravely 
they  endured  their  wounds  in  days  that  followed,  groaned 
miserably  and  were  willing  to  go  away  from  Cuba  on  the 
morning  of  the  23d  of  June. 

Most  of  the  troops  had  disembarked  before  morning, 
and  the  landscape  when  the  sun  rose  was  dotted  for 
a  mile  up  the  valley  with  the  white  tents  of  the  United 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH   EIDERS. 

States  army.  Down  on  the  beach  among  half  a  dozen 
surf  boats  which  had  been  crushed  on  the  rocks,  and 
amidst  the  many-colored,  shining  'sea-shells  of  the  Carib 
bean,  lay  the  two  troopers  who  had  been  drowned  the 
day  before,  and  whom  the  Hough  Eiders  had  tried  to 
save.  A  detail  from  the  regiment  was  present  at  their 
unimposing  funeral  early  in  the  morning.  General 
Shafter  was  still  on  his  flagship,  the  u  Seguranga." 
Major-General  Joseph  Wheeler  was  in  command  on 
shore. 

Most  of  the  newspaper  men  were  not  allowed  to  land 
until  late  on  the  23d.  Those  of  us  who  had  landed  be 
fore  had  a  hard  time.  The  Cubans,  who  were  naturally 
grateful  to  the  XOAV  York  Journal,  had  turned  over 
to  me  as  headquarters  a  big  bungalow  on  a  hill,  and  this 
kept  the  night  dew  off  us.  There  wrere  in  our  party 
Stephen  Crane,  John  Hans  of  the  London  Daily  Mail, 
Frank  .Nuttall  of  the  London  Daily  Telegraph,  and 
others.  But  saved  as  we  were  from  sleeping  out  of  doors, 
we  were  entirely  without  food.  What  little  we  got  we 
begged  from  soldiers,  although  all  of  us  bore  credentials 
from  the  Secretary  of  War,  directing  all  commanding 
officers  to  furnish  forage  and  rations  for  us  at  the  cost 
price.  I  may  be  pardoned  for  remarking  hero  that  I 
ate  only  one  meal  while  I  was  in  Cuba  during  the 
Spanish- A  merican  war. 

The  morning  and  early  afternoon  of  the  23d  of  Tune 
were  devoted  by  the  Rough  Riders  to  perfecting  the 
comfort  and  beauty  of  their  camp  at  Daiquiri.  They 
apparently  expected  to  remain  there  a  long  time.  But  at 
one  o'clock  General  Wheeler  sent  orders  to  Colonel 

76 


IN    CUBA,    BEFORE   THE   FIGHTING. 

Wood  to  be  ready  to  move  at  a  moment's  notice.  In 
the  meantime  several  regiments  of  regular  troops  had 
marched  off  towards  Siboiiey.  At  half -past  one  orders 
came  for  the  Rough  Riders  to  move  at  once. 

Their  beautiful  camp  was  transformed  into  a  scene 
of  desolation  within  an  hour.  The  little  shelters  and 
palm  thatches  were  ruthlessly  destroyed.  J)og  tents 
came  down  and  went  into  the  blanket  rolls  of  these 
dismounted  cavalrymen  with  a  rapidity  which  would 
have  done  credit  to  any  regiment  of  regulars.  The  only 
trouble  concerned  the  mule-trains.  The  scarcity  of 
animals  Avhich  handicapped  the  conduct  of  the  Cuban 
campaign  from  the  very  start  was  severely  felt  by  the 
Rough  Riders.  Much  of  the  luggage  of  the  officers  was 
abandoned  where  it  lay  in  camp.  It  seemed  almost  im 
possible  to  pack  the  mess  truck  alone  on  the  few  animals 
at  hand,  and  the  rapid-fire  and  dynamite  guns  presented 
great  problems.  The  captain  of  the  "  Yucatan  "  had 
gone  out  to  sea  with  a  good  deal  of  the  Rough  Riders' 
plunder.  There  were  not  saddles  enough  for  the  offi 
cers  to  ride  in.  Colonel  Wood  had  an  extra  horse — a 
beautiful  little  thoroughbred  Kentucky  mare.  It  was 
almost  with  tears  in  his  eyes  that  he  ordered  a  pack- 
saddle  put  on  her  and  told  the  men  to  load  her  with  the 
regimental  headquarters  mess  kit,  and  the  pretty  little 
beast  turned  pathetic  eyes  of  protest  on  her  master  while 
this  was  being  done.  Wood  felt  so  badly  about  it  that 
he  went  away.  He  never  saw  the  little  thoroughbred 
again,  I  am  told.  She  was  among  the  first  animals  shot 
at  Guasimas. 

Colonel  Roosevelt  was  without  a  saddle.     The  man 


THE   STOKY   OF   THE   ROUGH   EIDERS. 

who  led  his  troops  so  coolly  at  Guasimas  and  San  Juan 
reached  a  state  of  excitement  in  the  face  of  this  early 
emergency  which  reminded  me  of  the  old  days  in  New 
York  when  he  was  a  Police  Commissioner.  His  wrath 
was  boiling,  and  his  grief  was  heart-breaking.  General 
Shafter  had  promised  me  before  we  left  Tampa  that  I 
should  be  given  plenteous  transportation  for  Journal 
horses.  I  had  consulted  him  before  purchasing  them,  as 
I  didn't  want  to  buy  animals  that  I  could  not  take  with 
me.  At  the  last  moment,  however,  he  had  refused  to 
allow  any  Journal  horse  a  place  on  any  transport,  and 
the  Journal  staff  was  entirely  without  animals.  This, 
however,  left  us  with  a  large  surplus  of  saddles.  I  had 
one  myself,  old  and  worn  and  perfectly  comfortable, 
which  I  was  especially  fond  of.  In  Colonel  Roosevelt's 
distress  I  came  to  his  rescue  and  loaned  him  that  saddle. 
He  rode  it  into  the  battle  the  next  day  and  into  oblivion, 
for  it  has  never  been  heard  of  since. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  terrible  march  to  Siboney. 
Colonel  "Wood  kindly  permitted  me  to  march  with  him 
at  the  head  of  the  column,  in  company  with  Captain 
McCorrnack  and  the  regimental  adjutant.  Captain 
Capron  was  the  senior  captain  of  the  regiment,  and  his 
command  (L  Troop)  was  at  the  head  of  the  column. 
Just  ahead  of  Colonel  Wood  a  little  Cuban  boy,  who 
could  talk  English,  rode  on  a  tiny  native  stallion,  which 
succeeded  in  keeping  Colonel  Wood  and  his  big  charger 
at  a  very  respectable  distance.  Color-Sergeant  Wright, 
bearing  the  heavy  regimental  standard — the  same  which 
we  had  raised  the  day  before  on  Mount  Losiltires — was 
just  behind  me,  and  was  unquestionably  the  happiest  man 

78 


IN   CUBA,    BEFORE   THE    FIGHTING. 

in  Cuba.  The  heat  was  absolutely  terrific,  and  before 
we  had  inarched  two  miles  every  uniform  was  so  soaked 
with  perspiration  that  the  men  looked  as  if  they  had  been 
ducked. 

Tyree  Rivers  was  the  second  regular  army  officer  at 
tached  to  the  Rough  Riders.  lie  was  an  aide  on 
Young's  staff  and  an  officer  in  the  Third  Cavalry,  as 
Captain  McCormack  was  the  representative  of  General 
Wheeler.  It  is  not  fair  to  fail  to  mention  his  valorous 
work.  He  went  from  Siboney  to  Las  Guasimas  on  a 
particularly  sturdy  mule,  which  he  let  me  ride  at  inter 
vals.  After  we  had  stopped  at  the  end  of  the  trail,  and 
Colonel  Wood  had  received  word  from  Capron  that  signs 
of  Spaniards  had  been  seen,  he  sent  Rivers  off  into  the 
jungle  at  the  right.  Rivers  came  back,  after  he  had 
started,  and  formally  gave  me  his  mule.  I  tied  the 
animal  to  a  barbed-wire  fence  and  have  neither  seen  her 
nor  Rivers  since. 

General  Wood  told  me  the  other  day  in  Washington, 
that  Rivers'  conduct  during  the  battle  was  most  ex 
traordinarily  commendable.  He  must  have  gone  back 
and  got  the  mule,  for  General  Wood  said  that  he  rode 
mounted  up  and  down  the  firing  line,  and  did  mighty 
good  work  in  encouraging  the  men  and  keeping  them 
cool.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  McCormack  and 
Rivers  were  the  only  men  in  the  regiment  who  wore 
the  United  States  army  blue  uniforms,  and  it  is  probable 
that  they  wrere,  because  of  these  uniforms,  selected  as 
especial  targets  by  the  Spanish  sharpshooters.  I  don't 
know  this  to  be  true,  I  simply  guess  at  it.  At  the  time 
I  saw  General  Wood  in  Washington,  this  book  was  prac- 

79 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

tically  completed.     He  asked  me  to  add  this  reference 
to  Elvers.     I  add  it  with  pleasure. 

Some  regiments  of  regular  infantry  were  ahead  of  us, 
and  the  superiority  of  the  Rough.  Riders,  not  only  over 
volunteers,  but  over  most  regulars,  was  never  better  illus 
trated  than  it  was  that  day.  During  the  march  from 
Daiquiri  to  Siboney,  probably  one-half  of  the  men  in  the 
regiment  preceding  us  dropped  out  from  heat  prostra 
tion.  Our  path  through  the  Cuban  jungles  was  literally 
lined  during  most  of  the  distance  by  poor  fellows  in  blue, 
Avho  had  fallen  by  the  wayside  and  lay  there  helpless  and 
alone,  gasping  for  breath.  We  lost  not  one  man  from 
exhaustion  who  did  not  succeed  in  rejoining  us  before 


we  went  to  bed  that  night. 


There  was  an  exhibition  of  grit  on  this  march  that  de 
serves  mention.  One  trooper  had  had  his  legs  crushed 
between  the  bumpers  of  two  cars  on  the  way  from  Tampa 
to  Port  Tampa.  He  had  only  partially  recovered  when 
this  march  began,  but  he  insisted  on  going  with  the  regi 
ment.  On  the  way  he  fell  out  from  exhaustion,  and  the 
men  with  him  thought  that  he  would  die.  He  was,  of 
necessity,  left  by  the  wayside  with  some  exhausted  ones 
from  other  regiments.  Before  the  next  day's  battle  was 
half  over,  he  crawled  slowly  to  the  front  and  fired  his 
full  share  of  shots  before  the  fighting  ended. 

One  of  the  most  astonishing  things  I  saw  in  Cuba 
occurred  on  this  trip.  A  regular  soldier,  belonging,  I 
think,  to  the  Tenth  Infantry,  suddenly  discovered  that 
his  period  of  enlistment  expired  that  day  at  five  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon.  We  had  perhaps  completed  half  our 
march  when  he  made  this  discovery.  Without  hesita- 

80 


IX    CUBA,    BEFORE    THE    FIGHTING. 

tion,  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  campaign,  he  demanded 
his  discharge  from  his  commanding  officer,  turned  over 
such  of  his  equipment  as  belonged  to  the  Government, 
and  left  the  United  States  army  then  and  there.  His 
departure  was  accompanied  by  a  chorus  of  jeers  from  his 
own  comrades,  and  as  he  answered  them,  he  fell  in  the 
path  of  Captain  Capron.  Capron  collared  him  as  if  he 
had  been  a  yellow  dog,  and  passed  him  down  to  the  long 
line  of  Rough  Riders  which  stretched  behind.  I  don't 
know  what  happened  to  him  after  he  passed  out  of  my 
sight,  but  I  know  that  before  he  had  disappeared,  there 
was  very  little  clothing  on  him,  and  he  Avas  very  properly 
bleeding. 

There  is  no  country  on  the  earth  more  beautiful  than 
that  through  which  we  passed.  For  a  large  part  of  our 
way  we  were  almost  embowered  by  the  rising  Cuban 
jungle  on  each  side  of  our  path;  for  several  miles  we 
marched  through  a  cocoanut  grove  where  the  palms 
towered  on  an  average  more  than  a  hundred  feet  above 
our  heads;  we  crossed  several  handsome  streams  and 
went  through  the  dry  bed  of  one  river.  The  Spaniards 
had  announced  that  we  could  never  march  from  Dai 
quiri  to  Siboney,  without  building  elaborate  bridges, 
but  we  found  that  all  of  the  streams  were  easily  ford- 
able. 

Nothing  is  thirstier  than  a  long  march,  except  a  battle. 
As  we  crossed  one  of  the  streams,  the  water  looked  so 
cool,  clear,  and  delightful  that  Colonel  Wood  stopped 
and  told  us  to  be  careful. 

"  You  can  fill  your  canteens  here,"  he  said,  "  if  you 
don't  foul  the  water  yourselves." 
6  81 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS. 

So  we  stopped  on  stepping  stones,  and  we  hovered  on 
the  edges,  and  we  hung  ourselves  out  on  overhanging 
boughs,  and  we  filled  our  canteens.  And  just  as  we  got 
them  filled,  we  heard  a  great  splashing  around  a  curve 
up  stream,  and  a  large  section  of  the  Tenth  Cavalry 
(colored)  came  into  view.  They  were  swimming  in  the 
river. 

We  emptied  our  canteens. 

After  that  the  march  was  long  and  weary.  By  no 
means  as  large  a  proportion  of  men  dropped  out  of  our 
regiment  as  had  dropped  out  of  the  regular  regiment 
that  preceded  us,  but  still  twenty  or  thirty  fell  by  the 
wayside.  Along  towards  the  end  of  the  march — after 
we  had  come  across  the  railroad  tracks,  and  were  mo 
mentarily  expecting  to  see  Siboney — the  men  began  to 
grumble  a  little  bit.  Darkness  had  fallen,  and  march 
ing  was  difficult.  The  curious  lumpy  roots  of  the  scrub 
palmettos  grew  constantly  across  our  path,  and  walking 
Avas  not  joyful.  When  a  man  called  back  "  hole,"  we 
were  all  unhappy  until  AVC  had  seen  some  other  felloAV 
fall  in,  and  thus  kneAv  that  we  had  passed  it.  Humorous 
sentries  were  posted  high  aboATe  us  on  the  railroad  em 
bankment  to  our  left,  and  they  cried  out  ribald  cries 
about  imminent  Spaniards  and  sudden  death  that  Avas 
likely  to  strike  us  in  the  next  thicket.  Those  last  miles 
wore  worse  than  fighting.  Finally,  it  was  well  after  ten 
o'clock,  AVC  began  to  find  the  campfires  of  the  regiments 
AAdiich  had  already  reached  Siboney. 

At  last  AA7e  Avent  into  camp  in  the  Arery  heart  of  the 
noAV  famous  little  A^illage.  In  front  of  us  were  the  rail 
way  tracks,  and  beyond  them  the  sea.  Some  transports 

82. 


IN   CUBA,    BEFORE   THE   FIGHTING. 

had  come  up  from  Daiquiri  and  were  vomiting  their  men 
into  the  surf,  from  which  they  scrambled  up  to  us, 
drenched  and  disheartened. 

Shortly  after  our  arrival  Major-General  Wheeler  sent 
for  Colonel  Wood  and  General  Young. 


83 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  FIRST  SHOT. 

The  2-ith  of  June  had  well  begun  before  this  con 
ference  between  Generals  Wheeler  and  Young  and 
Colonels  Wood  and  Roosevelt  was  ended. 

Before  the  day  had  finished,  nine  of  the  men  in  the 
regiment  were  dead  on  a  Cuban  hillside,  scarce  six  miles 
away,  and  thirty-two  were  lying  in  hastily  improvised 
hospitals,  sore  wounded. 

I  was  not  actually  present  at  this  conference,  but 
Richard  Harding  Davis  was,  and  he  says  in  his  book, 
and  says  privately,  that  General  Wheeler  had  recon 
noitred  the  trail  that  afternoon  with  some  Cubans,  and 
found  that  the  enemy  were  intrenched  at  Guasimas, 
Avhich,  Davis  says,  is  at  the  apex  of  two  trails  only 
three  miles  from  Siboney,  but  which  is  really  more 
than  five  miles  away  from  that  strange  little  Cuban 
town. 

Before  the  rain  came  that  night,  despite  our  weariness, 
some  of  us  started  to  explore.  Troops  were  still  being- 
landed  through  the  surf.  Two  Avarships  lay  in  the  slight 
coast-line  indentation  which  is  dignified  by  the  name  of 
bay,  and  played  their  searchlights  on  the  landing  place. 
Probably  no  more  picturesque  sight  was  ever  presented 
to  the  eye  of  a  newspaper  correspondent  than  was  before 
me  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  Rough  Riders  when  we  went 

84 


THE    FIRST   SHOTo 

down  to  the  edge  of  the  ocean  for  a  swim.  The  canteens 
of  the  regiment  were  empty,  and  I  was  thirstier  than 
I  have  ever  been  before  in  my  life,  and  the  men  of  the 
regiment  must  have  been  worse  off  than  I  was.  They 
had  been  carrying  their  heavy  arms  and  equipment  dur 
ing  the  long  march  from  Daiquiri,  while  I  had  borne 
only  a  blanket,  in  which  I  had  wrapped  my  photographic 
films  and  my  camera.  The  blanket,  by  the  way,  be 
longed  to  Stephen  Crane.  Mine  had  fallen  a  victim  to 
the  skeleton  pier.  We  took  our  little  bath.  We 
stripped  for  it  as  boys  do  who  go  into  the  Erie  Canal  to 
swim,  and  thus  saved  ourselves  from  attracting  attention, 
because  the  man  who  had  clothes  on,  unless  he  was  just 
getting  out  of  one  of  the  landing  surf  boats,  would  have 
appeared  unusual.  Probably  two  hundred  American 
soldiers  were  there  in  the  surf,  helping  the  newcomers 
to  disembark,  and  they  were  quite  as  God  made  them. 
I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  wet  look  of  the  water  in  the 
sea.  We  all  wanted  to  drink  it.  While  we  were 
standing  there  talking  about  it  and  discussing  the 
thoughts  which  must  come  to  shipwrecked  sailors  on 
rafts  who  see  "water,  water  everywhere  and  not  a  drop 
to  drink,"  one  of  the  Tenth  Infantry  came  along  with 
six  or  eight  canteens  on  his  shoulders.  He  asked  us  if 
we  wanted  a  drink.  We  did. 

"  Well,  here  you  are,"  lie  said,  and  handed  a  canteen 
to  Dr.  Church. 

The  doctor  took  it.  He  took  one  swallow.  He 
handed  it  sorrowfully  back. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  he.      "  I  will  go  thirsty." 

The  canteens  were  filled  with  that  same  sweet  Spanish 

85 


THE    STORY    OF    THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

wine  wliicli  the  Hough  Eiders  had  learned  to  dread  at 
Daiquiri. 

We  had  returned  to  camp  before  the  men  had  cooked 
supper.  Colonel  Wood  asked  me  join  the  regimental 
mess,  and  I  was  filled  with  exceedingly  great  joy.  But 
the  men  were  handicapped  by  lack  of  water.  The  Span 
iards  had  cut  the  pipes  which  were  supposed  to  bring 
water  from  the  hills,  and  Colonel  Wood  had  given  the 
strictest  orders  that  no  member  of  his  regiment  should 
drink  the  water  which  was  being  given  out  freely  in  the 
Cuban  shanties  of  the  town.  His  wisdom  in  taking  this 
course  is  plainly  shown  by  the  fact  that  not  one  mem 
ber  of  the  Rough  Riders  developed  a  case  of  fever  dating 
from  that  day,  although  the  regular  troops  who  were  en 
camped  thereabout  began  to  come  down  with  it  within 
forty-eight  hours.  From  the  beginning  of  the  campaign 
to  its  very  finish,  Wood's  medical  knowledge  and  regard 
for  sanitation  saved  the  men  of  his  command  from  many 
evils  to  which  the  soldiers  of  other  regiments,  even 
among  the  regular  troops,  were  often  exposed. 

Finally,  and  it  was  fully  midnight,  the  details  of  men 
who  had  been  sent  for  water  came  back  from  somewhere 
with  an  ample  supply,  and  the  cooking  which  had  been 
delayed  by  the  lack  of  it  began  to  go  merrily  forward. 
We  were  hungry — officers  and  men  alike — and  the 
gleaming  campfires,  against  which  the  figures  of  the 
sturdy  cooks  were  strongly  silhouetted  in  the  inky  black 
ness  of  the  Cuban  night,  seemed  especially  inviting. 
There  was  probably  not  one  man  in  the  regiment  who 
was  not  licking  his  chops  in  anticipation,  as  he  looked  on. 

But  the  luck  of  the  Rough  Riders  deserted  them  then. 

8G 


THE    FIRST   SHOT. 

We  were  in  Cuba  at  the  beginning  of  the  rainy  season, 
and  had  every  reason  to  expect  the  worst  kind  of  weather. 
For  some  reason,  God  had  been  good  to  General  Shafter 
and  had  let  him  land  his  troops  under  smiling  skies. 
Nothing  that  nature  could  do  to  help  him  be  a  good 
commanding  general  had  been  omitted  by  an  all-wise 
Providence,  up  to  that  time,  and  we  had  been  able  to  get 
along  fairly  well.  But  suddenly,  while  we  were  waiting 
for  our  supper-  to  be  cooked,  the  first  rain  which  had 
descended  since  we  landed  in  Cuba  began  to  fall.  It 
was  not  what  we  know  as  rain  in  the  Xorth.  It  was  a 
deluge.  It  wras  such  a  downpour  as  we  have  never  heard 
of  in  the  United  States.  It  put  out  the  campfires  and  we 
suffered  accordingly.  Those  of  us  who  were  too  tired 
to  wait  for  it  to  stop  before  we  went  to  sleep,  missed  our 
suppers.  That  was  a  serious  matter  for  some  of  us  who 
had  not  had  breakfast  or  dinner,  and  who  did  not  have 
breakfast  the  next  day.  But  it  was  Cuba. 

Just  back  of  Siboney  rises  another  of  those  abrupt 
hills  which  are  so  frequent  along  that  part  of  the  (  Hiban 
coast.  Over  this  hill  runs  one  trail  and  along  the  valley 
at  its  side  and  to  the  right  of  it  runs  another.  General 
Wheeler  ordered  General  Young  and  three  hundred 
and  sixty-two  men  of  the  First  and  Tenth  Cavalry  to 
pass  up  the  valley  trail,  and  ordered  Colonel  Wood  and 
his  five  hundred  and  seventy- four  men  to  go  up  the  hill 
trail.  They  were  to  meet  where  the  trails  met  and 
merged  into  a  wagon  road  to  Santiago  at  Guasimas. 

The  Cuban  scouts  had  reported  the  presence  of  Span 
ish  sharpshooters  in  the  jungle  along  the  trails,  and  had 
announced  that  a  body  of  Spaniards  were  strongly  in- 

89 


THE   STORY   OF   THE    ROUGH   RIDERS. 

trenched  just  beyond  where  the  roads  met.  So  it  is  well 
to  say  here  that  the  battle  which  followed  was  not 
technically  an  ambush,  although  it  is  true  that  the  Amer 
ican  troops  met  the  Spaniards  before  they  had  expected 
to.  Still,  as  they  were  marching  through  an  enemy's 
country,  and  were  taking  every  possible  precaution,  it 
is  scarcely  fair  to  say  that  they  were  actually  surprised. 

The  night  in  Siboney  was  probably  the  most  uncom 
fortable  one  which  most  of  the  members  of  the  regiment 
had  up  to  that  time  experienced.  It  was  fully  midnight 
before  they  were  ready  to  sleep,  and  the  terrific  down 
pour  had  soaked  the  Cuban  upper  soil  until  it  wras  of  the 
consistency  of  breakfast  oatmeal,  bound  together  and 
rendered  doubly  disagreeable  by  the  wire  grass.  Our 
men  had  only  their  dog  tents,  and  their  cheap  ponchos  or 
rubber  blankets  were  slight  protection  to  them  against 
the  penetrating  mud.  In  addition  to  this,  no  one  thing 
which  the  underbred  and  unmilitary  Cuban  officers  in 
charge  of  troops  there  at  Siboney  could  do  to  render 
sleep  in  our  camp  impossible  was  omitted. 

Reveille  was  sounded  at  3.15. 

The  camp  of  the  Rough  Riders  presented  a  weird  sight 
in  the  early  morning  darkness.  Campfires  had  been  left 
burning  all  night,  and  the  figures  of  the  cooks  at  work 
around  them  looked  like  busy  demons.  I  had  tried  to 
sleep  during  the  night  on  the  porch  of  a  Cuban  shanty, 
with  two  or  three  officers.  My  fitful  slumber  was  dis 
turbed  by  the  voice  of  Buck  Dawson,  chief  herder  in 
the  Rough  Riders'  pack-train.  Buck's  remarks  were 
not  less  weird  than  his  appearance,  and  that  was  ab 
solutely  unearthly.  Two  of  his  mules  had  come  over 

90 


THE    FIRST   SHOT. 

and  knocked  at  the  door  of  that  Cuban  shanty  with 
their  hind  feet.  lie  was  arguing  the  matter  with 
them. 

Colonel  Wood  and  Colonel  Roosevelt  did  not  lie  down 
to  sleep  that  night  at  all.  'When  morning  came  they 
were  still  wandering  busily  around  in  their  long  yellow 
"  slickers  "  or  rain  coats.  Wood  looked  worn  and  hag 
gard,  and  his  voice  was  cracked  and  hoarse.  Roosevelt 
was  as  lively  as  a  chipmunk,  and  seemed  to  be  in  half  a 
dozen  places  at  once.  There  was  tremendous  trouble  in 
getting  the  mule-trains  packed,  and  the  mess  kits  ready 
for  transportation.  Dawn  had  fairly  broken — and 
broken  is  the  right  word  to  describe  the  coming  of  the 
Cuban  dawn,  for  the  change  from  darkness  to  light  is 
almost  as  quick  as  the  crack  of  an  egg — and  Wood's  ex 
asperation  over  the  slowness  of  the  men  was  a  cheerful 
sight  to  witness.  Finally  he  announced  to  the  packers 
and  cooks  in  stentorian  tones  that  if  they  Avere  not  ready 
in  ten  minutes,  he  would  abandon  them.  They  were 
ready. 

And  so  as  the  first  heat  of  the  Cuban  day  began  to  beat 
down  upon  the  side  of  that  precipitous  hill,  the  Rough 
Riders  commenced  to  crawl  slowly  up  it  like  great  brown 
flies.  The  trail  was  miserable.  I  marched  in  advance 
of  the  regiment,  and  many  times  had  to  pull  myself  up 
by  clinging  to  rocks  and  shrubs.  The  men  behind  me 
with  their  guns  and  blanket  rolls  must  have  had  a  much 
harder  time  than  I  did.  We  were  forced  to  halt  for 
rest  half  a  dozen  times  during  the  ascent  of  this  six  or 
seven  hundred  feet.  By  the  time  we  had  reached  the 
summit,  we  were  all  at  least  as  tired  as  we  had  been 

91 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    ROUGH    RIDERS. 

the  night  before,  when  we  lay  down  to  take  onr  un 
satisfactory  sleep. 

From  that  summit  as  beautiful  a  view  wras  presented 
to  us  as  had  been  shown  to  the  little  group  of  Rough 
Riders  the  day  before,  when  they  raised  the  flag  on 
Mount  Losiltires.  There  were  transports  and  warships 
in  the  little  bay  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  and  every 
level  spot  of  ground  in  sight  was  covered  with  the  camps 
of  our  troops.  Delicate  bugle  calls  floated  softly  up  to 
us  like  blasts  from  fairy  trumpets,  and  the  squalor  of 
the  Cuban  town  at  our  feet  was  gilded  into  glory  by 
the  morning  sun.  When  that  same  day's  sun  was 
setting,  another  group  of  Rough  Riders  looked  down 
at  the  same  scene,  and  some  of  them  saw  it  through  a 
haze  which  approaching  death  had  spread  before  their 
eyes. 

From  this  point  our  march  to  the  front  was  through 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  countries  that  I  have  ever  seen. 
We  went  very  rapidly — so  rapidily,  indeed,  that  there 
came  unheeded  protests  from  the  exhausted  men.  L 
Troop  was,  as  it  had  been  the  day  before,  at  the  head  of 
the  column.  We  marched  in  single  file,  and  Captain  Cap- 
ron  was  just  behind  me.  Richard  Harding  Davis,  who 
was  suffering  from  sciatica,  had  borrowed  a  Government 
mule,  and  made  a  picturesque  sight  as  he  went  before 
us,  preceding  Captain  McCormack  as  a  matter  of  neces 
sity.  McCormack  was  also  mounted  on  a  mule,  and  if 
Davis  had  not  ridden  ahead  of  him,  the  column  would 
have  stopped,  for  McCormack's  mule  would  only  go  at 
all  when  it  could  follow  the  animal  Davis  rode.  Colonel 
Wood  sent  two  Cuban  scouts  to  reconnoitre  before  us. 

92 


THE   FIRST   SHOT. 

They  must  have  kept  well  in  advance,  for  we  did  not 
see  them  again  that  day.  The  colonel,  of  course,  rode 
ahead  of  all  of  us,  while  at  first  Colonel  Roosevelt  re 
mained  in  his  place  in  the  middle  of  the  line. 

AVe  had  advanced  less  than  a  mile  from  the  brow  of 
the  hill,  when  AVood  ordered  Capron  and  his  troop  to  go 
forward  as  an  advance  guard.  The  trail  had  here  nar 
rowed  down  to  a  mere  bridle  path,  bordered  on  each  side 
by  dense  thickets.  Those  of  us  who  knew  what  the 
Cubans'  report  had  been  on  the  night  before,  looked 
sharp  when  we  heard  coming  from  these  thickets  the 
plaintive  call  of  the  wood  cuckoo.  This  call  had  been 
used  as  a  signal  by  the  Spaniards  when  our  marines 
landed  at  Guantanamo,  and  we  thought  it  indicated  the 
presence  of  sharpshooters.  Colonel  Wood  and  Mc- 
Cormack  both  spoke  to  me  about  it,  and  both  peered 
anxiously  into  the  thickets  Avhen  the  call  came,  but  there 
came  no  following  rifle  shot.  After  this  episode  had 
occurred  five  or  six  times,  AVC  ceased  to  heed  the  cuckoo 
calls,  thinking  that  they  were  really  bird  voices,  but  a 
Spanish  prisoner  on  the  hospital  ship  "  Olivette  "  told 
me  that  the  progress  of  the  Rough  Riders  was  reported 
in  detail  to  the  Spanish  commanding  general  by  pickets 
who  passed  this  call  along,  and  that  the  sharpshooters 
who  were  posted  along  that  trail  only  refrained  from 
shooting  in  order  to  allay  our  suspicions  and  induce  us  to 
march  unthinkingly  into  the  cul-de-sac  which  they  had 
prepared  for  us  farther  on. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  the  Rough  Riders  in  the  ranks 
had  been  told  that  they  would  meet  the  Spaniards  before 
the  day  was  over,  but  the  statement  had  made  little 

93 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

impression  on  them.  While  we  were  in  Tampa  we  had 
waited  so  long  for  orders  to  move  that  the  war  had  corns 
to  seem  a  dreamy  kind  of  myth  to  us;  when  the  navy 
bombarded  Daiquiri,  not  an  answering  shot  had  been 
fired;  on  the  long  march  from  Daiquiri  to  Siboney  the 
men  had  seen  no  Spaniards  and  had  seen  no  signs  of 
Spaniards.  They  had  nercr  seen  a  Spaniard.  I  doubt 
if  most  of  them  actually  realized  that  morning  that  there 
were  any  Spaniards  on  the  island.  As  I  have  said,  they 
had  been  told  that  they  would  meet  the  Spaniards  before 
the  day  was  over,  but  it  was  as  if  you  were  told,  when  you 
got  on  a  railroad  train,  that  you  would  have  an  accident 
before  you  reached  your  destination.  You  have  never 
seen  a  railway  accident,  and  Avhile  you  knoAv  there  are 
such  things,  still  you  take  very  little  stock  in  the  an 
nouncement  that  has  been  made  to  you. 

The  Rough  Ixiders  took  no  stock  at  all  in  the  story 
that  they  would  meet  the  Spaniards. 

~No  words  can  describe  the  desolation  of  the  country 
through  which  we  were  now  marching.  A  land  which 
has  always  been  a  Avilderness  is  not  one-half  so  dreary  as 
a  land  which  has  been  under  cultivation,  and  been  aban 
doned. 

In  a  year  a  tropical  wood  Avill  make  inroads  Avhich  a 
Northern  forest  would  not  make  in  a  generation.  The 
plantations  along  our  route,  victims  of  the  reArolution 
which  had  raged  in  Cuba  for  three  years,  were  desolate 
and  overgroAvn  Avith  scrub  and  creepers.  In  places,  erst- 
wliile  cultiA^ated  fields  had  been  filled  with  a  tAventy-f oot 
growth,  which  towered  higher  than  our  heads  and  arched 
completely  over  us.  It  was  as  if  Ave  were  marching  in 

94 


THlE    FIRST   SHOT. 

a  tunnel  with  green  walls.  Xo  words  can  describe  the 
oppressiveness  of  the  heat  which  made  us  gasp  and  sweat 
in  these  places.  Frequent  baitings  for  rest  were  un 
avoidable.  On  both  sides  of  us,  barbed-wire  fences 
hedged  us  into  the  bridle  path. 

By  and  by  we  came  to  a  place  where,  at  the  right  of 
the  trail,  a  deserted  mansion  stood.  We  could  just  catch 
glimpses  of  it  through  the  bushes.  A  palm  tree  had 
grown  in  its  very  middle  and,  lifting  its  roof,  had  cast 
it  aside  in  ruins.  Just  here  Colonel  Roosevelt,  who  had 
come  forward  and  was  riding  in  the  group  at  the  head 
of  the  main  column,  and  behind  L  Troop,  picked  up  two 
shovels  and  fastened  them  to  his  saddle.  What  the 
colonel  intended  to  do  with  the  two  shovels  is  unrecorded 
history. 

It  was  perhaps  five  hundred  yards  beyond  this  point 
that  a  Cuban  scout  is  alleged  to  have  informed  Captain 
Capron  that  the  Spaniards  were  in  force  ahead  of  us. 
For  myself,  I  do  not  believe  that  any  Cuban  scout  did 
any  such  thing,  or  any  other  thing,  except  to  double  back 
to  Siboney  and  return  to  his  companion  long  before  we 
reached  a  danger  point. 

Colonel  Wood  had  warned  Captain  Capron  that,  at  a 
certain  point,  he  would  come  across  the  dead  body  of  a 
Spanish  guerrilla,  who  had  been  killed  the  day  before 
by  Cubans,  unless  the  Spaniards  had  removed  him,  which 
was  improbable,  and  if  they  did  not  find  this  corpse,  Cap 
ron  would,  a  little  farther  on,  see  a  campfire.  Wood- 
bury  Kane  came  back  and  simply  told  Colonel  Wood 
that  the  enemy  had  been  discovered,  and  Wood  does  not 
know  now  whether  they  found  them  out  through  the 

95 


THE   STORY    OF   THE    ROUGH   RIDERS. 

presence  of  the  dead  guerrilla,  or  through  the  presence 
of  the  campfire. 

We  halted. 

Colonel  Wood  gave  the  order  of  "  Silence  in  the 
ranks."  We  could  hear  the  men  send  it  to  the  rear  along 
the  line,  and  then  someone  saw  lying  a  little  way  back, 
and  over  at  the  side,  the  dead  body  of  a  Cuban.  I  have 
been  told  that  this  Cuban  was  one  of  our  scouts,  but  I  do 
not  believe  it,  for  I  examined  his  body  myself,  and  know 
that  he  had  not  been  killed  that  morning.  There  was 
no  visible  wound  on  his  body,  and,  if  I  judge  his  nature 
by  that  of  the  other  Cubans  wThom  the  army  learned  to 
know,  I  am  forced  to  believe  that  he  must  have  died  a 
natural  and  peaceful  death.  He  certainly  was  not  the 
Spanish  guerrilla. 

Notwithstanding  the  order  of  "  Silence  in  the  ranks/' 
the  men  still  failed  to  be  seriously  impressed  by  the 
situation.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  did  not  occur  even  to 
me,  who  was  somewhat  on  the  inside  of  affairs,  that  we 
were  about  to  go  into  a  fight.  I  made  a  trip  back  along 
the  line  as  a  matter  of  form,  so  that  I  might  get  some 
thing  to  write  about,  and  I  found  the  men  lolling  on 
the  grass  with  their  guns  lying  carelessly  beside  them. 
Some  of  them  had  started  to  take  off  their  blanket  rolls, 
as  they  had  done  during  previous  halts  for  rest,  but  they 
were  stopped  by  their  officers.  They  were  not  talking 
of  war,  and  they  were  not  thinking  of  war.  The  heat 
was  probably  more  dreadful  nowr  than  it  had  been  at  any 
other  time,  and  they  discussed  that.  A  private  of  B 
Troop  said: 

"  By  God!  how  would  you  like  a  '  glass  of  cold  beer'  ?" 

96 


THE   FIRST  SHOT. 

The  men  resented  it  as  a  particularly  aggravating  sug 
gestion,  and  tossed  bits  of  stick  and  stone  at  him.  One 
man  blew  a  putty  ball  at  him.  All  the  way  down  on  the 
transport,  this  man  had  carried  his  tiny  tin  blow-gun  for 
the  exasperation  of  his  friends,  and  the  wad  of  putty  was 
in  his  pocket  and  the  little  tin  tube  was  sticking  out  of 
the  breast  of  his  blue  shirt  when,  a  couple  of  hours  later, 
we  found  him  lying  dead  on  the  field/ 

L  Troop  was  two  hundred  yards  in  advance  of  us. 
Captain  Capron  had  deployed  six  men  and  himself  two 
hundred  yards  in  advance  of  it. 

When  I  returned  to  the  colonel's  group,  he  was  telling 


a  funny  story.  Nearly  everybody  except  Colonel  "Wood 
and  Colonel  Roosevelt  was  lying  gasping  in  the  grass. 
Roosevelt  came  over  by  me  and  we  talked  of  a  luncheon 
in  the  Astor  House,  New  York,  with  Mr.  Hearst,  the  pro 
prietor  of  the  Journal.  I  was  very  near  to  the  barbed- 
wire  fence.  Roosevelt  glanced  towards  it  casually.  The 
posts  were  standing,  but  the  wire  was  down.  He  picked 
up  one  end  of  the  strand.  I  noticed  that  he  started  as  he 
looked  at  it. 

"  My  God !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  this  wire  has  been  cut 
to-day,"  and  he  passed  it  over  to  me. 

I  looked  at  it. 

"  What  makes  you  think  so?  "  I  asked. 

"  The  end  is  bright,"  he  replied,  "  and  there  has  been 

99 


THE    STORY   OF    THE    ROUGH    RIDERS. 

enough  dew,  even  since  sunrise,  to  put  a  light  rust  on  it, 
had  it  not  been  lately  cut." 

Just  as  he  spoke,  Surgeon  La  Motte  blundered  up  the 
line  on  a  mule,  making  much  noise.  Roosevelt  jumped 
after  him,  and  in  urging  him  to  keep  quiet  made  more 
noise  than  he  did. 

Then  came  the  first  shot. 


100 


CHAPTER  VL 

THE  FIRST  BATTLE. 

The  six  men  who  went  in  advance  of  L  Troop  were  the 
men  at  whom  the  first  shot,  and  the  almost  immediately 
succeeding  first  volley,  fired  by  land  forces  in  the 
Spanish- American  War,  were  directed. 

Tom  Isbell,  a  full-blooded  Cherokee  Indian,  went  first 
at  one  side  of  the  middle  of  the  road.  Captain  Capron 
kept  even  with  him  on  the  other.  Private  Culver  was  a 
few  feet  behind  on  the  left  flank  in  the  bnshes,  and  Bob 
Pernell  was  on  the  right  flank  in  the  bushes.  Wyley 
Skelton,  Tom  Meagher,  and  Sergeant  Byrnes,  who  had 
been  a  member  of  the  .New  York  police  force,  were 
spread  out  about  thirty  feet  apart.  Some  one  had  fired 
a  shot  in  reply  to  that  first  one  which  came  shrieking 
through  the  bushes,  and,  as  proof  of  our  marksmanship, 
this  little  group  found  a  dead  Spaniard  lying  in  the 
middle  of  the  road.  I  have  tried  to  find  out  who  fired 
this  shot,  but  I  have  been  unable  to  do  so. 

After  that  Tom  Isbell  saw  a  Spaniard,  and  cheerfully 
killed  him.  Then  everything  opened  up.  The  Span 
iards  w^ere  in  force  in  the  bushes,  and  Isbell  went  down 
with  seven  shots  in  him  from  their  first  volley.  Not  five 
seconds  elapsed  before  Captain  Capron  received  his  fatal 
wound. 

By  this  time  the  men  had  naturally  ceased  to  advance 
101 


THE   STORY   OF   THE    ROUGH   RIDERS. 

as  boldly  as  they  had  started  to,  and  dropped  behind 
what  cover  they  could  find.  Culver,  who  was  also  an 
Indian,  was  on  his  face  behind  a  rock.  Sergeant  Hamil 
ton  Fish  rushed  up  to  him  in  advance  of  the  other  men 
of  L  Troop,  who  were  running  forward  into  the  fracas 
as  rapidly  as  they  could,  and  said : 

"  Culver,  have  you  got  a  good  place?  " 

"  Yes/'  replied  Culver. 

Fish  lay  down  beside  him  at  the  edge  of  the  road  and 
began  firing  as  fast  as  he  could.  After  four  or  five  shots, 
he  gasped. 

"  I'm  wounded,"  said  Fish. 

Culver  replied  by  saying,  "  I'm  killed." 

They  had  been  hit  by  the  same  bullet,  and  the  cow 
boy  warrior  and  the  dude  soldier  mingled  their  blood 
there  in  the  Cuban  trail.  Fish  died;  Culver  lived. 

The  man  to  come  up  first,  after  Hamilton  Fish,  was 
Samuel  Davis,  known  to  the  regiment  as  Cherokee  Bill. 
He  was  standing  upright  when  he  saw  Fish  shot,  and  had 
only  time  to  look  at  him  a  second  with  wondering  eyes, 
when  he  went  down  with  a  crash  himself. 

This,  very  briefly,  tells  the  story  of  the  gallant  ad 
vance  guard  of  L  Troop.  They  had  gone  into  battle  in 
a  strange  country.  They  had  in  their  hands  guns  which 
they  had  never  fired  before.  If  they  had  ever  done 
any  fighting,  it  had  been  on  horseback;  but  they  were 
now  dismounted.  They  were  shooting  at  an  enemy 
wrhich  used  smokeless  powder,  and  of  which  only  one 
man  was  at  any  time  visible  during  that  first  skirmish. 
Some  of  them  were  college  men  who  had  never  seen 
anything  rougher  than  a  football  game,  or  a  possible 

102 


THE   FIRST   BATTLE. 

prize  fight.  They  had  been  fired  upon  by  men  who  shot^ 
to  kill  and  without  a  second's  warning,  but  not  one  of 
them  turned  his  face  other  than  towards  the  front;  not 
one  of  them  showed  the  slightest  sign  of  co\yardice.  Two 
out  of  the  seven  were  almost  instantly  killed,  and  the 
other  five  were  badly  wounded.  But  the  men  who  were 
wounded  were  glad  of  their  wounds,  and  the  men  who 
died  exulted  because  it  was  their  proud  privilege  to  be 
the  first  in  the  United  States  army,  during  this  war,  to 
perish  for  their  country. 

In  the  meantime,  back  at  the  point  where  the  little 
group  of  officers  and  Davis  and  myself  had  heard  the 
first  shot  of  the  war  fired,  there  was  great  rushing. 

This  first  shot  had  been  fired  by  the  Spanish  pickets. 
Wood  rushed  forward  far  enough  to  become  satisfied  that 
it  was  Spanish,  and  not  American,  fire.  He  then  re 
turned  to  the  head  of  the  line  and  gave  the  order  to 
"  load  chamber  and  magazine."  Then  he  again  ordered 
absolute  silence  in  the  ranks.  I  have  since  asked  him 
if,  while  he  was  standing  there,  telling  us  that  funny 
story  which  I  have  mentioned,  he  had  been  expecting 
that  first  sudden  shot  which  so  startled  the  rest  of  us. 
He  told  me  that  he  had  been  expecting  it  momentarily 
for  ten  minutes,  because  Gapron  had  told  him  some  time 
in  advance  of  the  evidences  of  Spanish  presence,  and  had 
said  that  while  he  marched  he  constantly  expected  the 
attack  to  begin.  He  felt  as  if  something  might  drop 
upon  his  head  any  minute. 

Colonel  Wood  was  as  cool  a  man  as  ever  I  saw.  He 
gave  his  orders  with  the  utmost  calmness  and  showed 
then  (indeed  it  was  true  of  him  throughout  the  battle) 

103 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  KG  UGH  RIDERS. 

not  one  sign  of  undue  excitement.  Colonel  Roosevelt, 
on  the  contrary,  jumped  up  and  down,  literally,  I  mean, 
with  emotions  evidently  divided  between  joy  and  a 
tendency  to  run.  The  barbed-wire  fence  on  the  right 
of  the  bridle  path  was  intact  at  first,  but  some  of  our 
men  cut  the  strands  with  their  wire  nippers.  Roose 
velt  picked  up  one  of  these  strands,  and  looked  at  it 
curiously,  as  he  had  looked  at  the  strand  of  the  fence  on 
my  side  of  the  trail.  Wood  ordered  him  to  take  Troops 
G.  K,  and  A  into  the  tangle  of  bushes  and  creepers  on 
the  right,  and  ordered  Troops  I),  F,  and  E  (Muller's 
troop  in  reserve)  to  deploy  into  the  naturally  open  field 
which  stretched  beyond  the  tell-tale  barbed-wire  fence  on 
the  left.  Perhaps  a  dozen  of  Roosevelt's  men  had  passed 
into  the  thicket  before  he  did.  Then  he  stepped  across 
the  wire  himself,  and,  from  that  instant,  became  the 
most  magnificent  soldier  I  have  ever  seen.  Tt  was  as  if 
that  barbed-wire  strand  had  formed  a  dividing  line1  in  his 
life,  and  that  when  lie  stepped  across  it  lie  left  behind 
him  in  the  bridle  path  all  those  unadmirable  and  con 
spicuous  traits  which  haArc  so  often  caused  him  to  be 
justly  criticised  in  civic  life,  and  found  on  the  other  side 
of  it,  in  that  Cuban  thicket,  the  coolness,  the  calm  judg 
ment,  the  towering  heroism,  which  made  him,  perhaps, 
the  most  admired  and  best  beloved  of  all  Americans  in 
Cuba. 

For  the  next  half  hour  I  lost  sight  of  Colonel  Roose 
velt,  and  know  what  he  and  his  men  did  only  by  hearsay. 
I  know  that  they  must  have  had  a  terrible  time  as  they 
beat  into  that  jungle,  and  I  know  that  while  they  could 
not  see  the  Spaniards,  the  Spaniards  could  plainly  see 

104 


THE   FIRST   BATTLE. 

them,  for  they  had  planned  each  individual's  position 
so  that  the  Americans,  when  they  came,  should  be  in  un 
interrupted  view.  It  was  the  worst  kind  of  guerrilla 
warfare.  The  fact  that  our  men  still  failed  to  realize 
that  the  Spaniards  were  in  Cuba,  and  were  shooting  at 
us  to  kill,  is  indicated  by  the  other  fact  that,  when 
withering  fire  struck  Roosevelt  and  his  men,  they  be 
lieved  that  L  Troop  had  made  a  blunder  and  was  firing 
back  at  them.  This  belief  was  so  strong  that  our  men 


The  Trail  where  Ike  F'njht  began. 

ceased  firing  into  the  thickets  for  fear  of  killing  Capron's 
troopers,  and  shouted  out  to  them  to  stop  shooting.  A 
moment  later,  however,  Colonel  Roosevelt  himself  saw 
Spaniards  in  front  of  him  and  ordered  his  men  to  again 
return  the  fire.  By  this  time  the  ground  over  which 
his  men  marched  was  strewn  with  the  empty  shells  of 
Spanish  cartridges.  Those  troops  did  not  again  cease 
firing  for  fear  that  they  were  shooting  into  their  own 
comrades.  They  did  not  again  doubt  the  presence  of  the 
Spaniards,  and  the  Rough  Riders  realized  at  last  that  it 
was  war. 

lor, 


THE   STOKY    OF   THE   HOUGH   KIDERS. 

A  very  few  minutes  had  passed  before  Colonel  Roose 
velt  saw  that  it  was  impossible  to  carry  his  men  further 
into  the  dense  jungle,  and  he  turned  them  to  the  left  and 
worked  back  across  the  trail  into  more  open  country. 
While  our  men  were  still  in  some  doubt  as  to  the  exact 
position  of  the  Spaniards,  the  Spanish  had  us  in  absolute 

range,  and  shot  low  and  with 
excellent  aim.  The  firing  was 
rapid  beyond  anything  which 
had  occurred  up  to  the  time  this 

'j^^^_  turn  was  made,  and  our  men  had 

MfeMpr         to  work  their  way  lying  flat  on 
~J     ^  their    faces.       Even    then    the 

i,  Spanish    bullets    struck    some. 

The  little  episode  cost  the 
Rough  Riders  nine  men  killed 
and  wounded. 

One  unfortunate  fact  in  con 
nection  with  the  failure  to  break 
through  the  thicket  was  that  we 
were,  of  course,  especially  anx 
ious  to  establish  communication 
witli  General  Young's  brigade, 

which  was  marching  up  the  valley,  and  which  our  men 
could  plainly  hear  on  the  other  side  of  that  impassable 
thicket.  They  were  evidently  as  hot  at  it  as  we  were. 
Probably  fifteen  minutes  had  elapsed  before  communica 
tion  was  finally  brought  about,  and  it  then  came  through 
the  effort  of  K  Troop.  Nothing  more  astonishingly 
brave  occurred  during  the  entire  war  than  the  feat  of 
the  guidon-bearer  who  did  this.  Captain  Jenkins  had 

106 


THE    FIRST   BATTLE. 

sent  him  to  the  top  of  a  bare  little  knoll,  and  in 
structed  «him  to  wave  his  guidon  until  General  Young's 
men  saw  it.  The  Spaniards  were  in  force  just  across  the 
valley  and  within  good  range  of  him,  and  they  poured  a 
merciless  fire  at  him.  He  paid  no  heed  to  it  whatever, 
but  walked  erect  and  waved  his  little  flag  until  an 
answering  wave  from  Young's  men  told  him  that  his 
signal  had  been  seen.  Then  he  got  quickly  dowrn  and 
sensibly  scuttled  away  like  a  crab.  It  is  interesting  to 
state  that  this  man  had  once  been  a  candidate  for  Con 
gress. 

Another  pleasing  episode  of  this  particular  point  of 
the  battle  is  related  by  Richard  Harding  Davis,  in  his 
book  on  "  The  Cuban  and  Porto  Rico  Campaigns " 
(Charles  Scribner's  Sons).  He  said: 

"  While  G  Troop  passed  on  across  the  trail  to  the 
left,  I  stopped  at  the  place  where  the  column  had  first 
halted — it  had  been  converted  into  a  dressing  station, 
and  the  wounded  of  G  Troop  were  left  there  in  the  care 
of  the  hospital  stewards.  A  tall,  gaunt  young  man  with 
a  cross  on  his  arm  was  just  coming  back  up  the  trail. 
His  head  was  bent,  and  by  some  surgeon's  trick  he  was 
advancing  rapidly  with  great  strides,  and  at  the  same 
time  carrying  a  wounded  man,  much  heavier  than  him 
self,  across  his  shoulders.  As  I  stepped  out  of  the  trail 
he  raised  his  head,  and  smiled  and  nodded,  smiling  in 
the  same  cheery,  confident  way  and  moving  in  that 'same 
position.  I  know  it  could  not  have  been  under  the  same 
conditions,  and  yet  he  was  certainly  associated  with 
another  time  of  excitement  and  rush  and  heat,  and  then 
I  remembered  him.  He  had  been  covered  with  blood 

107 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   EOUGH   EIDERS. 

and  dirt  and  perspiration,  as  he  was  now,  only  then  he 
wore  a  canvas  jacket  and  the  man  he  carried  on  his 
shoulders  was  trying  to  hold  him  back  from  a  white 
washed  line.  And  I  recognized  the  young  doctor  with 
the  blood  bathing  his  breeches  as  "  Bob  "  Church,  of 
Princeton.  That  was  only  one  of  four  badly  wounded 
men  he  carried  on  his  shoulders  that  day  over  a  half-mile 
of  trail  that  stretched  from  the  firing  line  back  to  the 
dressing  station,  under  an  unceasing  fire.  And  as  the 
senior  surgeon  was  absent,  he  had  chief  responsibility 
that  day  for  all  the  wounded,  and  that  so  few  of  them 
died  is  greatly  due  to  this  young  man  who  went  down 
into  the  firing  line  and  pulled  them  from  it,  and  bore 
them  out  of  danger." 

In  the  meantime  I  had  gone  down  to  the  left  with 
Colonel  Wood  and  F  and  U  Troops.  The  first  wounded 
officer  I  saw  was  Captain  James  IT.  McClintock,  of  B 
Troop.  He  Avas  leaning  propped  up  against  the  tree 
on  the  backbone  of  the  hill  which  was  as  clearly  defined 
and  bare  as  the  buttress  of  a  cathedral.  Two  bullets 
had  met  in  his  lower  left  leg  and  I  have  never  seen  a  man 
suffer  such  pain  as  he  did.  Months  afterwards  I  saw 
him,  the  day  after  he  was  discharged  from  the  hospital 
and  from  the  army  with  a  record  of  "  half-total  disabil 
ity."  He  seemed  to  be  very  cheerful  that  day  at  Las 
Guasimas,  and  was  carefully  explaining  to  Lieutenant 
Nichols  that  the  place  was  altogether  too  hot  for  any 
man  to  stay  in  who  was  not  obliged  to.  I  shook  hands 
with  him  and  got  his  name  and  address,  as  I  did  of  the 
other  wounded,  and  asked  him  if  there  was  anything  I 
could  do  for  him. 

108 


THE    FIRST    BATTLE. 

"  Not  a  damn  thing/'  said  McClintock,  "  except  get 
out." 

Since  then  he  has  told  me  about  one  of  his  troopers, 
who,  after  McClintock  had  been  forced  to  'lie  down  by 
exhaustion,  came  and  lay  close  beside  him.  lie  talked 
cheerfully  to  him  and  tried  to  keep  his  spirits  up. 

"  You'd  better  get  out  of  this/'  said  McClintock.  "  It's 
too  hot." 

u  Don't  worry,  captain,"  the  man  replied,  "  I'm  be 
tween  you  and  the  firing  line." 

McClintock,  touched  as  he  was  by  this  exhibition  of 
the  man's  devotion,  still  wanted  him  to  get  away.  IFe 
urged  him  to  leave  him.  The  man  refused.  Finally 
McClintock  said: 

"  I  am  your  captain,  and  I  order  you  to  go ;  you  are 
doing  no  good  to  any  but  me,  here;  this  is  no  place  for 
a  well  man.  I  order  you." 

Then  the  man  had  to  tell. 

"  I  ain't  no  well  man,"  he  slowly  admitted.  "  I'm 
shot." 

"Whore?"  asked  McClintock. 

"  Oh!  it's  only  a  scratch." 

They  lay  there  in  silence  for  a  long  time. 

The  firing  began  to  come  from  the  left.  The  soldier 
worked  his  painful  way  around  until  he  was  again  be 
tween  McClintock  and  the  line  of  fire.  McClintock  was 
too  weak  from  loss  of  blood,  even  to  speak. 

Then  a  hospital  man  came  and  lifted  McClintock  to 
carry  him  back. 

''  Take  him,  too,"  McClintock  managed  to  articulate. 

"  No  use,"  said  the  hospital  man;  "  he's  dead." 

109 


•  THE    STORY    OF   THE    HOUGH   RIDERS. 

Among  all  the  men  who  faced  the  unknown  perils  of 
singing  Mausers,  there  were  no  signs  of  fear.  They 
went  into  that  field  of  battle  almost  as  they  had  gone 
into  that  transport  at  Tampa — as  if  it  were  a  picnic,  a 
summer's  holiday  among  the  towering  palms.  And 
there  was  nothing  in  the  aspect  of  the  scene  to  disabuse 
them  of  this  idea.  They  could  look  down  the  green 
slope  toward  the  incline  on  the  other  side,  and  see  noth 
ing  hostile.  Nothing  stirred.  Not  an  enemy  was  in 
sight.  There  was  no  smoke,  nor  any  other  visible  sign 
of  battle.  And  yet  from  nowhere  came  the  shrieking 
little  Mausers,  and  from  everywhere  we  heard  the  pop 
ping  of  the  guns  that  sent  them.  When  you  combine 
smokeless  powder  with  a  carefully  prearranged  ambush 
which  hides  from  view  every  man  who  fires  it,  the  fight 
becomes  uncanny.  The  setting  was  fitter  for  a  fete 
champetre  than  for  a  battle. 

This  had  its  strange  effect  upon  the  men,  but  did  not 
cow  them.  There  were  no  panic-stricken  ones  then  or 
at  any  time  during  that  day,  so  far  as  I  know,  although 
there  was  much  reason  for  being  panic-stricken.  I 
thought  only  once  that  I  had  found  a  coward.  I  stopped 
a  man  who  Avas  limping  quickly  back,  and  asked  him 
why.  He  threw  at  me  a  new  oath,  in  wishing  that  I 
might  be  "  double-damned,"  and  raised  his  carbine  over 
me  with  the  plain  intention  of  beating  out  my  brains. 
He  then  explained  that  he  had  torn  the  sole  off  one  of 
his  shoes  and  could  not  go  farther  forward  because  of  the 
penetrating  thorns  which  were  under  foot.  Together 
we  found  a  dead  man,  and  took  from  one  of  his  feet  the 
shoe.  I  helped  fasten  it  on  the  living  myself,  as  I  had 

110 


THE    FIKST    BATTLE. 

helped  to  take  it  from  the  dead.  The  dead  man  was 
Marcus  Russell,  of  Troy,  K  Y.  Who  the  living  man 
was,  I  do  not  know.  I  only  know  that,  as  soon  as  he  had 
his  shoe,  he  ran  back  toward  where  the  firing  was  again, 
much  more  rapidly  than  I  could. 

I  soon  rejoined  Colonel  Wood.  No  man  has  ever 
made  a  finer  spectacle  in  battle  than  he  did  that  day. 
He  went  well  in  advance  of  his  own  men,  and  had  led  his 
horse  into  the  field.  He  stood  leaning  against  its  sorrel 
side  with  what  seemed  like  absolute  indifference,  and  the 
side  he  leaned  against  was  the  outside.  He  had  taken  a 
natural  breastwork  into  the  field  with  him,  but  he 
scorned  to  use  it. 

I  shall  never  forget  how  he  looked  as  he  stood  there 
with  his  face  burned  to  a  brown,  which  was  almost  like 
that  of  the  Khaki  uniform  he  wore.  His  sandy  mus 
tache,  too,  had  been  grizzled  by  the  sun  until  it  fitted 
into  the  general  harmony  of  tone,  and  he  stood  there 
brave  and  strong,  like  a  statue  in  light  bronze.  The 
Cuban  grass  reached  almost  to  his  waist.  There  was  not 
a  breath  of  air,  and  yet  the  grass  about  him  moved,  once, 
slowly,  as  if  a  breeze  were  blowing  it.  At  first  I  had 
no  right  idea  of  what  had  caused  this,  but  presently  the 
thought  came  to  my  mind  that  it  might  be  bullets.  And 
then  I  realized  that  Colonel  Wood,  forming,  with  his 
horse,  the  most  conspicuous  item  in  the  view  before  the 
Spaniards,  was  naturally  the  target  for  all  the  bullets 
they  could  shoot.  It  was  the  effect  of  volleys  fired  from 
Spanish  trenches  and  from  the  bush  across  the  valley 
that  made  the  grass  wave  about  his  feet.  I  realized  it 
slowly.  He  knew  it  from  the  start.  That  he  escaped 

111 


THE    STOKY    OF   THE   KOUGH   KIDEKS. 

unscathed,  was  extraordinary.  But  that  he  stood  there 
without  the  quiver  of  a  muscle,  without  the  tremble  of 
a  second's  worry,  was  not  less  than  wonderful.  He  had 
left  a  wife  and  a  family  of  little  ones  in  Washington, 
and,  of  course,  he  wanted  to  return  to  them.  The  cer 
tainty  that  he  would  be  advanced,  with  or  without  honor- 
winning  battles,  was  absolute.  Yet  he  stood  there  in  the 
battle  which  he  had  sought  himself,  and  never  stirred  a 
finger.  And  he  stood  on  the  outside  of  his  sorrel  horse. 
It  cannot  be  that  that  man  failed  to  remember  that  all 
good  things  were  behind  him,  where  peace  and  quiet 
were,  and  he  knew  that  there  were  ahead  of  him  only 
worry  and  strain  and  possible  death.  Men  who  had 
already  been  hit  were  near  him,  and  he  could  see  their 
red  pools  of  blood  from  where  he  calmly  stood.  He 
played  the  highest  stake  that  man  can  offer  against  the 
honor  which  he  won  that  day,  and  if  fate  did  not  win 
her  wager,  it  was  not  the  other  gambler's  fault. 
I  watched  him — fascinated. 

And  then  I  turned  away  to  watch  the  men  whom  he 
commanded.  An  officer  had  walked  into  the  field  with 
me  and  gone  back  to  encourage  a  wounded  man.  From 
across  the  valley  the  enemy  marked  him,  and  the  "  zeu," 
"  zen,"  "  zeu,"  of  the  bullets  going  over  his  head,  and  the 
"  zip,"  "  zip,"  "  zip,"  of  the  bullets  going  into  the  grass 
at  his  feet,  were  as  frequent  as  the  raindrops  which. had 
beaten  on  the  garret  roof  above  him  when  he  was  a 
baby.  He  had  exposed  himself  recklessly,  but,  like 
Colonel  Wood,  he  escaped  without  a  scratch. 

I  asked  Colonel  Wood  afterwards  about  his  sensations 
when  he  stood  on  .the  battlefield  in  front  of  his  horse. 

112 


THE   F1EST    BATTLE. 

He  said  that  he  was  unfortunately  situated,  because  he 
was  almost  the  only  man  in  the  regiment  who  had  noth 
ing  to  do.  All  he  could  accomplish  was  to  make  the 
men  believe  him  to  be  perfectly  cool.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  he  said,  he  appreciated  his  danger  and  his  mind 
was  filled  with  regrets  over  the  fact  that  he  had  not  taken 
out  $100,000  life  insurance,  for  he  had  no  idea  that  he 
would  survive  the  battle.  He  had  given  his  troop  offi 
cers  careful  instructions  before  they  went  into  the  fight, 
and  as  they  wrent  in  had  assured  himself  that  they  under 
stood  their  orders  and  were  cool  enough  to  carry  them 
out. 

This  one  episode  deserves  some  comment.  I  was 
standing  by  Colonel  Wood,  as  Captains  Llewellyn  and 
Huston  passed  into  the  battlefield.  Wood  stopped  each 
of  them,  and  indulged  in  airy  persiflage,  which  I  thought 
was  irrelevant  and  unthoughtful  at  the  time.  Llewellyn 
was  carrying  a  pick-axe  on  his  shoulder,  for  no  reason 
whatever.  Huston  was  carrying  a  shovel.  Wood 
stopped  them  both  and  joked  them  about  their  collection 
of  agricultural  implements.  Then  he  said : 

u  What  are  you  going  into  the  fight  to  do?  To  dig- 
holes  in  the  ground?  " 

Neither  man  could  answer.  They  had  picked  these 
things  up,  as  Roosevelt  had  picked  up  the  two  shovels, 
which  he  had  tied  to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  They 
said  they  didn't  know  what  they  had  them  for,  and  they 
undoubtedly  spoke  the  truth.  Wood  then  worked  around 
in  a  joking  way,  until  he  got  both  these  men  to  repeat 
to  him  the  orders  which  they  had  received  before 
they  had  started.  He  explained  to  me  in  Washington 

115 


THE    STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

what  I  did  not  understand  at  Guasimas — that  this  whole 
conversation  was  carried  out  for  the  purpose  of  making 
them  repeat  their  orders  unconsciously,  so  that  he  would 
know  for  certain  that  they  understood  what  they  were 
to  do. 

Before    I   left    Tampa,    I    had    been   ignominiously 
thrown  from  a  fractious  horse,   and  had  sprained  my 
elbow.      My  left  arm  was  not  strong  enough  to  hold  my 
notebook,  and  so  I  rested  it  against  a  palm  tree.     The 
fact  that  Spanish  guns  were  firing  at  us  was  impressed 
upon  my  mind  by  the  triplicated  "  chug  "  of  bullets 
striking  against  this  tree.     It  was  too  small  to  offer  much 
protection,  and  it  was  the  biggest  thing  in  sight.      Oc 
casionally  I  saw  in  the  long  grass,  as  I  surveyed  the  field, 
an  indentation -which  showed  where  a  man  had  fallen 
in  fighting  for  his  country,  or  was  lying  down  in  order 
that  he  might  fight  well.     Aside  from  those  indenta 
tions,  and  aside  from  the  solemn  figures  of  Wood  and 
another  officer  or  two,  outlined  above  the  dun-brown  of 
the  Cuban  grass,  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  to  the 
visual  sense  that  fighting  was  going  on.     Orally  there 
was  much  evidence.     Richard  Harding  Davis  was  over 
to  my   right   with   L   Troop,    and   pumping   wildly   at 
the  Spaniards  with  a  carbine.     I  had  the  only  smokeless 
powder  revolver  cartridges  which  were  in  the  army  in 
Cuba.     They  had  been  given  to  me,  at  Tampa,  by  Sir 
Bryan  Leighton,  of  the  British  army.    They  were  known 
as  "  man  stoppers,"  and  I  knew  that  they  would  not 
carry  more  than  400  yards.       The  Spaniards  were  at 
least  600  yards  away,  and  yet  I  fired  cheerfully  in  their 
direction.     I  presume  those  bullets  are  lying  imbedded 

116 


HE    FIKST    BATTLE. 


in  the  ground,  somewhere  between  the  lines,  while  I  am 
writing  this. 

I  heard  a  man  crying  out.  I  turned  and  saw  him;  I 
had  seen  him  before,  and  then  he  had  been  firing  as  fast 
as  his  new  gun  would  work.  K"ow  he  was  on  the  verge 
of  sobs.  I  ran  up  to  him  and  asked  him  if  he  was  hurt. 

"Hurt?  ~No,"  he  exclaimed,  "but  my  leg's  asleep 
and  I  can't  get  up,  and  my  gun's  jammed.  Gi'  me  a 
gun!  Can't  ye  gi?  me  a  gun?  " 

It  was  at  about  this  time  that  we  actually  saw  the 
Spaniards  for  the  first  time.  Although  we  had  forced 
them  to  fall  back  nearly  half  a  mile,  they  had  kept  so 
thoroughly  under  cover  that  our  men  had  rarely  had 
anything  other  than  a  movement  in  the  long  grass,  or 
some  suspicious  waving  of  the  shrubs  and  bushes  to  fire 
at.  One  body  of  about  300  men,  plainly  panic-stricken, 
broke  from  their  cover  at  last  and  started  to  run  away 
from  us  like  rabbits.  With  a  wild  whoop,  the  men  of 
I)  Troop  opened  fire  on  them  at  Captain  Huston's 
orders,  and  we  could  plainly  see  that  the  aim  was  good, 
for  half  a  dozen  Spaniards  dropped  as  the  first  volley 
was  sent  into  them. 

Colonel  Wood  jumped  over  from  where  he  had  been 
standing  and  shouted,  with  all  the  force  he  could  put 
into  his  voice: 

"  Don't  shoot  at  retreating  men." 

But  it  was  the  first  good  chance  our  men  had  had  at 
the  Spaniards,  and  the  colonel's  voice  was  drowned  by 
the  noise  of  firing.  They  kept  on  shooting.  He  called 
Trumpeter  Cassi  to  him  and  had  him  blow  '  cease  fir 
ing  "  on  his  bugle.  Finally  our  men  stopped. 

117 


THE   STORY   OF    THE    ROUGH   RIDERS. 

Wood  lately  made  this  point  clear  to  me  in  Washing 
ton.  It  puzzled  me  on  the  battlefield.  When  he  or 
dered  us  to  stop  firing  at  retreating  men,  I  thought  that 
he  had  made  a  serious  mistake.  I  stood  very  near  to 
him  and  saw  that  the  Spaniards  were  completely  de 
moralized  by  the  beginning  of  our  fire,  and  saw  that  after 
its  cessation  they  quickly  rallied.  I  thought  that  he 
had  been  wrong  in  ordering  our  firing  stopped. at  all,  and 
have  twice  made  the  statement  in  print  that  he  made 
a  mistake  in  stopping  this  firing.  He  has  since  told  me 
what  I  did  not  dream  of  at  the  time — that  he  was  ex 
pecting  a  flanking  attack  from  a  body  of  Spaniards  who 
were  trying  to  reach  our  rear,  and  that  because  of  this 
contemplated  struggle  with  attacking  men,  he  did  not 
wish  our  men  to  waste  their  somewdiat  scanty  ammuni 
tion  on  men  who  were  already  running  away.  It  is 
interesting  to  note  that  it  was  a  shot  from  this  body 
which  was  trying  to  flank  us  which  afterwards  laid  me 
low. 

Strange  things  happen  on  the  battlefield.  For  in 
stance  : 

Two  wounded  men  were  lying  under  a  tree,  waiting 
for  the  first-aid  men  to  come  and  dress  their  hurts.  I 
went  over  to  them  to  get  their  names,  and,  just  as  I  ap 
proached,  one  of  them  swung  his  foot  so  that  it  struck  the 
other  in  the  mouth.  They  had  both  been  shot  and  the 
Mausers  were  shrieking  over  them.  Yet  instantly  they 
forgot  the  battle  with  the  Spaniards,  and  had  one  between 
themselves.  Bloody  and  hot,  they  clinched,  and  I  pre 
sume  they  fought  it  out.  I  went  on  to  another  point. 

I  saw  many  men  shot.     They  never  failed  to  fall  in 

118 


THE   FIRST   BATTLE. 

little  heaps  with  instantaneous  flaccidity  of  muscles. 
There  were  no  gradual  droppings  on  one  knee,  no  men 
who  slowly  fell  while  struggling  to  keep  standing.  There 
were  no  cries.  The  injured  ones  did  not  throw  hands  up 
and  fall  dramatically  backward  with  strident  cries  and 
stiffened  legs,  as  wounded  heroes  fall  upon  the  stage. 
They  fell  like  clods.  Two  things  surprised  me  about 
these  episodes.  One  was  the  strange  noise  which  soldiers 
in  their  trappings  make  as  they  go  down.  It  is  always 
the  same.  It  is  a  combination  of  the  metallic  jingle  of 
canteens  and  guns,  and  the  singular,  thick  thud  of  a  fall 
ing  human  body.  I  cannot  quite  describe  it,  but  it  will 
always  be  in  my  ears,  whenever  I  think  of  Las  Guasimas. 

Even  stranger  than  the  sound  of  the  soldier's  fall  is 
the  "  chug  "  of  the  bullet  which  strikes  him.  One 
would  not  naturally  expect  a  bullet  to  make  much  noise 
when  it  hits  a  man.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  this  noise  is 
plainly  audible  at  100  feet,  and  I  have  heard  it  at  twice 
that  distance.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  sound,  for  after  one 
has  heard  it  once,  its  significance  becomes  gruesome.  It 
is  not  unlike  the  noise  made  by  a  stick  when  it  strikes 
a  carpet  which  is  being  beaten. 

Still  another  strange  thing  is  the  fact  that  only  the 
useless  bullets  seem  to  sing.  Those  which  fly  over  your 
head  and  which  pass  you  at  the  side  make  a  queer  little 
noise  entirely  unlike  the  whimper  of  the  Minie  balls 
of  the  Civil  War,  as  it  has  been  described  to  me.  The 
Mauser's  noise,  as  nearly  as  I  can  indicate  it  in  print,  is 
like  "  z-z-z-z-z-eu."  It  begins  low,  goes  up  high,  and  then 
drops,  and  stops  suddenly  on  the  "  eu."  Bullets  which 
strike  in  foliage  combine  a  curious  little  "  ping  "  with 

119 


THE   STORY    OF   THE    ROUGH    RIDERS. 

the  "zip  "  of  the  parting  leaves;  but  the  bullets  which 
strike  men  make  no  noise  at  all  until  they  hit  them. 
They  go  silently,  grimly  to  their  mark,  and  when  they 
hit  it,  the  man  is  lacerated  and  torn,  or,  very  likely,  dead. 

There  is  something  which  is  particularly  solemn  and 
awe-inspiring  about  the  death  of  men  upon  the  battle 
field.  Before  Las  Guasimas,  as  a  newspaper  man,  I  had 
seen  death  in  many  of  its  most  dreadful  forms.  I  had 
seen  men  die  gently  in  their  beds,  surrounded  and  petted 
and  coddled  by  anxious  friends,  and  worked  over  by 
physicians,  who  found  pretty  problems  of  strange  mi 
crobes  to  solve  while  they  were  dying.  I  had  twice 
seen  death  in  railroad  accidents,  once  at  St.  Thomas, 
Canada,  and  once  in  Wales.  I  had  seen  the  death  of  a 
maniac,  Avhose  distorted  mind,  in  dying,  craved  only  to 
kill  another.  I  had  seen  the  death  of  a  murderer  sui 
cide,  who  cast  himself  into  hell  from  the  elevated  rail 
way  structure  in  New  York.  I  had  seen  the  death  of 
two  criminals  on  the  scaffold,  and  another  in  the  electric 
chair,  and  I  had  learned  to  look  at  death,  as  a  newspaper 
man  does — as  an  interesting  thing  to  watch— and  write 
about. 

But  I  had  never  seen  any  death  like  that  of  those  men 
who  dropped  in  the  long  grass,  on  the  hill  of  Las  Guasi 
mas.  I  almost  forgot,  for  a  moment,  that  I  was  there 
to  see  things  which  I  must  afterwards  describe.  I  had 
never  seen  that  regiment  until  the  day  before,  but  I  felt 
that  every  man  who  was  hit  was  my  personal  friend,  and 
there  was  nothing  professional  in  the  interest  which  I 
took  in  each  one  of  them. 

Nothing    had    ever,    and    nothing    ever    will    again, 

120 


THE    FIRST    BATTLE. 

impress  me  as  did  the  silent  patience,  the  quiet,  calm 
endurance,  with  which  those  men — heroes  all — accepted 
their  suffering,  and  nothing  has  ever  seemed  grander  to 
me,  more  beautiful,  or  more  sublime,  than  the  deaths 
of  some  of  them.  Rough  men  they  were,  who  had  come 
out  of  the  AVest  to  fight;  but  if  a  great  church  organ  had 
been  pealing  on  that  hillside,  if  softened  lights  had  been 
falling  on  those  faces,  through  stained-glass  windows, 
devoutly  patterned,  if  the  robes  and  insignia  of  the  most 
solemn  and  holy  of  all  the  rites  of  all  the  churches  had 
surrounded  them,  I  could  not  have  been  more  impressed 
than  I  was  when  I  looked  down  into  the  rusty  swaying 
grass  of  that  Cuban  hillside,  and  saw  the  dirty,  sweaty 
faces,  the  rough  and  rugged  clinched  fists,  the  ragged 
uniforms  of  our  American  soldiers — dying. 


121 


CHAPTER  VIL 

DEATH  AND  SUFFERING. 

There  may  be  those  who  will  think  that,  in  devoting 
three  chapters  to  the  battle  of  Las  Guasimas,  I  am  giving 
it  too  much  space.  I  have  heard  it  called  a  skirmish, 
but,  if  it  was  a  skirmish,  then  I  wish  never  to  see  a 
battle.  It  was  of  paramount  importance  in  the  war,  and 
it  was  of  special  interest  to  the  people  who  read  this 
book.  For  it  was  almost  wholly  a  Eough  Eiders'  bat 
tle.  The  only  other  men  engaged  were  the  few  troops  of 
the  First  and  Tenth  Cavalry,  and  their  loss  was  very 
small. 

At  about  the  time  when  I  was  shot,  Colonel  Wood 
ordered  all  of  his  men  forward,  stretched  out  in  a  long 
line  which  Avas  ridiculously  thin  for  the  work  it  had  to 
do.  The  body  of  retreating  men  whom  he  had  forbid 
den  his  soldiers  to  fire  on  had  turned,  as  I  have  said,  and 
poured  a  bitterly  galling  fire  at  the  Rough  Riders. 
When  they  saAV  our  men  still  hurrying  toward  them, 
despite  their  recurring  orders,  they  turned  and  ran  again. 
Young's  brigade  was  doing  effective  fighting  on  the 
right,  and  the  Rough  Riders  had  about  half  a  mile  to 
carry  on  the  center  and  on  the  left,  before  the  Spaniards 
must  give  up  their  strong  positions.  We  had  worked 
down  into  the  shallow  valley,  and  had  reached  the  begin 
ning  of  the  slight  ascent  on  its  other  side.  The  ground 

122 


DEATH    AND   SUFFERING. 

was  almost  entirely  open  now,  and  our  men  were  ab 
solutely  exposed  to  the  fire  of  the  Spaniards,  while  they 
were  still  well  hidden  by  the  trees  and  in  an  old  build 
ing  which  had  at  one  time  been  used  as  a  distillery. 
This  was  very  properly  considered  to  be  the  Spaniards' 
most  important  position,  and  both  Colonel  Wood  and 
Colonel  Roosevelt  turned  their  particular  attention  to 
ward  it.  The  bullets  poured  in  even  faster  than  they 
had  before,  and  at  a  rate  which,  Major  Brodie  tells  me, 
has  not  been  equalled  in  the  history  of  warfare.  The 
strength  of  our  regiment  had  been  sadly  depleted  by 
the  loss  of  the  men  already  killed  and  wounded,  and  an 
uncanny  number  of  Mauser  bullets  found  their  Amer 
ican  billets,  as  our  men  broke  and  charged  on  the  old 
distillery. 

It  had  been  predicted  in  Washington,  by  the  regular 
officers  around  the  War  Department,  that  the  great  and 
serious  difficulty  of  a  regiment  like  the  Rough  Riders, 
would  be  that  they  would  not  wait  for  the  command  to 
fire,  but  would  shoot  as  each  individual  thought  best  to 
shoot.  Regular  army  offic:  rs,  indeed,  in  Washington,  at 
Tampa,  and  the  day  before  at  Daiquiri  and  Siboney, 
had  expressed  the  gravest  doubts  as  to  the  usefulness  of 
the  Rough  Riders.  They  had  said  that  they  would  lack 
discipline.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  when  they  made  this 
terrible  charge  they  showed  better  discipline  than  the 
regular  troops  showed,  I  am  told,  at  the  charge  on  San 
Juan  Hill  a  few  days  later.  There  was  very  little  scat 
tered  firing.  The  men  invariably  waited  for  the  com 
mand,  and  obeyed  it  by  firing  volleys.  On  one  occasion, 
when  the  noise  of  Spanish  rifles  was  so  great  that  L 

123 


THE   STORY    OF   THE    BOUGH    RIDERS. 

Troop  could  not  hear  its  officers  shout,  Lieutenant  Day 
had  to  pass  down  the  line,  striking  his  men  with  his  hat, 
in  order  to  make  them  know  what  he  wanted. 

It  was  in  the  charge  toward  the  old  distillery  that 
Major  Brodie  was  wounded.  Tip  to  that  time  he  had 
shown  himself  to  be  absolutely  fearless,  and  had  failed 
to  seek  cover,  even  when  it  wyas  at  hand.  The  bullet 
hit  him  in  his  outstretched  forearm,  and  its  terrific  force 
was  indicated  by  the  fact  that  it  spun  him  about  like  a 
top  before  he  fell  in  a  heap.  It  is  curious  that  no  mat 
ter  where  a  man  was  hit  by  a  Mauser  bullet — even  if 
the  wound  was  in  some  part  quite  remote  from  vital, 
like  the  wrists  or  fingers,  or  feet — he  always  went  down 
quick  and  limp,  as  a  very  wet  rag  might  fall.  Fre 
quently  men  who  were,  a  couple  of  minutes  later,  quite 
strong  enough  to  stand  up  and  walk,  or  even  go  back  to 
their  work  on  the  firing  line,  went  down  in  this  way 
when  they  were  shot.  I  have  heard  surgeons  discuss  it, 
and  they  say  that  it  is  due  to  the  tremendous  nervous 
shock  which  such  a  high-speed  projectile  communicates 
from  the  point  of  impact  to  the  uttermost  limits  of  the 
body.  All  nervous  force  is,  for  the  moment,  paralyzed, 
and  the  muscles  become  absolutely  limp. 

Colonel  Wood  described  to  me  Brodie's  action  at  the 
time  he  was  shot: 

"  Brodie  had  not  the  least  idea  that  he  could  be  hit 
by  a  mere  Spaniard,"  said  General  Wood.  "I  shall 
never  forget  his  expression  of  amazement  and  anger  .as 
he  hopped  down  the  hill  on  one  foot  with  the  other  held 
in  the  air,  before  he  fell.  He  came  toAvard  me,  shout 
ing: 

124 


DEATH   AND    SUFFEKING. 

"  '  Great  Scott,  colonel,  they've  hit  me! 7 

"It  was  plain  to  see  that  he  considered  the  wound  an 
unwarrantable  liberty." 

Colonel  Roosevelt's  escape  from  injury  was  not  less 
remarkable  than  that  of  Colonel  Wood,  which  I  have 
already  described.  Like  Wood  and  Brodie,  he  scorned 
cover,  although  he  insisted  that  his  men  should  protect 
themselves  as  well  as  they  could,  and,  at  one  time,  when 
he  was  leaning  against  the  side  of  a  palm  tree,  with  his 
head  nonchalantly  resting  against  its  bark,  a  bullet 
struck  close  by  his  cheek,  and  filled  his  eyes  with  dust 
and  splinters. 

Champneys  Marshall  was  shot  through  his  sleeve  and 
through  his  shirt;  Greenway  was  shot  through  his  shirt 
across  the  breast;  Color-Sergeant  Wright  was  blistered 
three  times  on  the  neck  by  close  passing  bullets,  and, 
after  the  engagement,  found  four  bullet  holes  in  the 
flag  he  carried.  A  strange  wound  was  that  of  Thomas 
W.  Wiggins,  whose  cartridge  belt  was  hit.  The  Mauser 
must  have  clipped  just  along  the  top  of  his  cartridges, 
so  as  to  touch  the  pin  fire,  for  half  a  dozen  of  them  ex 
ploded,  and  his  lower  legs  were  well-nigh  shot  to  pieces 
by  his  own  bullets.  After  he  Avas  wounded,  he  went  off 
into  a  series  of  faints,  but,  between  them,  he  continually 
called  to  Captain  McClintock  offers  of  help. 

Elmer  II.  Hawley  went  into  battle  smoking  his  pipe 
like  a  chimney.  He  stopped  smoking  when  a  bullet 
took  the  bowl  off. 

In  an  interview,  after  Colonel  Roosevelt  returned  to 
Xew  York,  he  told  these  stories : 

"  At  Las  Guasimas,  as  brave  a  man  as  there  was,  was 
125 


THE   STORY   OF   THE    ROUGH    RIDEKS. 

Tom  Isbell — the  Indian.  He  was  shot  four  times,  but 
continued  fighting.  Corporal  George  II.  Seaver  was 
shot  in  the  hip  when  we  were  in  a  pretty  hot  corner. 
After  a  minute,  he  sat  up;  we  propped  him  behind  a 
tree,  and  gave  him  his  rifle  and  canteen.  He  continued 
firing  until  we  charged  forward  and  left  him.  I  sup 
posed  him  to  be  mortally  wounded,  and  had  him  sent 
to  the  hospital,  but  to  my  surprise  he  turned  up  in  camp 
a  week  or  two  later,  having  walked  the  five  or  six  miles 
from  the  hospital. 

"  Another  man,  named  Rowland,  a  cow-puncher  from 
Santa  Fe,  was  shot  in  the  side.  He  kept  on  the  firing 
line  until  I  noticed  the  blood  on  him,  and  sent  him  to  the 
hospital.  He  returned  to  the  front  in  about  fifteen 
minutes  and  stayed  with  us  until  the  end  of  the  fight. 
He  was  then  sent  to  the  rear  hospital  and  told  that  he 
must  be  shipped '  North.  He  escaped  that  night,  and 
walked  out  to  the  front  to  join  us,  and  was  by  my  side 
during  all  the  Santiago  fighting.77 

Richard  Harding  Davis  tells  of  Lieutenant  Thomas, 
after  he  was  wounded.  Davis  and  others  started  to  carry 
him  into  the  shade.  He  was  in  terrific  pain,  and  his 
cowboy  companions  had  stopped  the  flow  of  blood  only 
by  means  of  rude  tourniquets  made  of  twigs  and  hand 
kerchiefs,  but  he  protested  loudly  that  he  wished  to  be 
carried  to  the  front.  Davis  records  the  remark  which  he 
made  just  before  merciful  unconsciousness  gave  him 
ease: 

"  For  God7s  sake  take  me  to  the  front/'  he  begged. 
"  Do  you  hear  me  ?  I  order  you ;  damn  you,  I  order — we 
must  give  them  hell;  do  you  hear?  we  must  give  them 

126 


DEATH   AND   SUFFERING. 

hell.  They  have  killed  Capron;  they  have  killed  my 
captain." 

The  most  astonishing  wound  received  in  this  war,  or 
in  any  other  war,  was  that  of  David  E.  Warford  in  the 
battle  of  Las  Guasimas.  The  bullet  hit  him  in  the  out 
side  of  the  right  thigh,  and,  striking  the  bone,  carromed 
up.  For  some  unaccountable  reason  it  then  went  across 
his  body,  through  his  intestines,  and  then  down  through 
the  left  thigh,  where  it  made  a  wound  of  exit  precisely 
opposite  to  its  wound  of  entrance  on  the  other  thigh. 
Thus  Warford  was  supposed  to  have  been  shot  through 
both  thighs  when  the  surgeons  found  a  wound  of  en 
trance  on  his  right  thigh  and  a  wound  of  exit  on  his  left 
thigh,  until  they  discovered  that  there  were  no  wounds 
at  all  on  the  inside  of  his  thighs.  The  extraordinary 
trick  of  the  bullet  was  only  figured  out  after  Warford 
had  been  taken  to  the  hospital  ship. 

Another  amazing  wound  was  that  received  by  Norman 
L.  Orme.  Xo  one  knows  who  shot  Orme,  for  his  wound 
was  made  by  a  bullet  from  a  Remington  rifle,  and  it 
is  not  supposed  that  any  of  the  American  or  Spanish 
troops  were  armed  with  Remingtons.  The  bullet  made 
eight  wounds  in  him.  This  was  owing  to  the  cramped 
position  in  which  he  held  his  gun  when  he  was  shot. 
The  shot  first  passed  through  the  left  forearm,  making 
two  wounds,  then  through  the  left  upper-arm,  two  more 
wounds,  then  through  the  body,  two  more  wounds,  and 
then  through  the  right  upper-arm,  making  the  last  two 
of  the  eight. 

An  interesting  little  point  told  to  me  by  Captain  Mc- 
Clintock  is  that  Clifton  C.  Middleton  had  gone  to  him 

127 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS. 

before  the  battle  began  and  announced  that  he,  Middle- 
ton,  would  certainly  be  shot  before  it  was  over.  "  I  am 
sure  to  be  wounded,"  said  Middleton.  "  All  my  people 
were  killed  in  their  farmhouse  by  Indians,  and  I  shall 
die  the  same  way."  lie  was  shot,  but  was  not  killed,  I 
think. 

It  would  be  unfair  to  omit  from  this  chapter  a  para 
graph  about  the  superb  work  of  the  surgeons.  Surgeon 
Church,  especially,  distinguished  himself.  Before  I  was 
shot  I  saw  him  running  along  with  his  surgeon's  packet 
on  the  very  firing  line,  and  attending  promptly  to  all 
the  wounded  he  could  find,  without  paying  the  least  at 
tention  to  his  own  safety  as  he  did  so.  In  one  case, 
where  the  fire  was  so  hot  that  every  man  in  the  neigh 
borhood  was  lying  flat  on  his  face  to  avoid  it,  Church 
knelt  at  the  side  of  a  wounded  man  and  made  himself 
a  shining  mark  for  Spanish  bullets  without  hesitation. 

And  here  I  have  an  opportunity  of  paying  a 
slight  tribute  to  one  of  the  bravest  men  I  ever 
knew.  His  name  is  George  "W.  Burgess.  Burgess 
was  with  D  Troop  and  enlisted  in  Oklahoma.  "No  one 
detailed  him  to  do  first-aid  duty  during  the  battle 
of  Las  Guasimas,  or  at  any  other  time.  He  has  the 
quiet  blue  eyes  and  the  thin  straight  lips  of  the  gen 
tleman  desperado  whom  Bret  Harte  wrote  about.  I 
don't  believe  that  anything  on  earth  could  frighten 
him,  nor  do  I  believe  that,  in  any  emergency,  his  voice 
would  rise  above  a  calm  and  quiet  drawl.  Before 
I  fell  into  the  long  grass,  I  saw  Burgess  standing 
up  when  others  were  lying  down,  and  running  along 
the  firing  line  with  his  brown  red-crossed  first-aid 

128 


Captain  McClintock  wounded  at  Zas  Guasimas. 


DEATH   AND   SUFFERING. 

pouch.  Sometimes  he  would  stop  and  take  a  shot 
at  the  Spaniards,  "  just  for  hell/'  as  he  said,  but 
most  of  the  time  he  Avas  busy  with  men  who  had  been 
wounded  and  were  lying  in  dangerous  places.  There 
was  one  man  in  this  battle  who  took  advantage  of  his 
first-aid  pouch  to  stay  in  the  rear  where  comparative 
safety  was,  and  wasted  much  good  time  in  too  elaborately 
dressing  the  wounds  of  men  who  had  been  braver  than 
himself.  Burgess  made  his  red  cross  an  excuse  for  plac 
ing  himself  in  extraordinary  dangers.  He  was  the  first 
man  to  come  to  me,  and  the  other  day  he 
gave  to  me  the  little  flask  from  which  he 
had  administered  the  ammonia  which  re 
stored  me  to  consciousness.  I  know  that 
when  he  stood  over  me  looking  kindly 
down  and  telling  me  that  he  did  not  think 
it  Avas  worth  his  while  to  dress  my  Avound, 
because  he  and  the  surgeons  considered 
that  it  could  not  be  otherAvise  than  mortal,  Ammonia  Flask. 
the  bullets  were  flying  about  him  as  thickly 
as  they  ever  fleAv  about  anyone.  I  can  remember  dis 
tinctly  hoAv  the  volleys  sounded  as  they  SAvept  over  my 
face,  and  I  knoAV  that  I,  Avho  Avas  lying  doAvn,  shrank 
and  shivered. as  they  shrieked  their  devilish  little  songs, 
while  Burgess  stood  there  calm  and  quiet,  and  told  me 
softly  and  sympathetically  that  he  Avas  extremely  sorry 
for  me.  He  added,  AATith  something  of  contempt,  that  it 
Avas  a  damned  shame  that  I  Avas  only  a  correspondent. 
Then  he  started  on  a  run  for  another  AATounded  man  Avho 
Avas  nearer  to  the  front  than  I  Avas,  and  Avho  Avas  prob 
ably  lying  under  a  hotter  fire  than  I  Avas.  ~Not  two 

131 


THE   STORY    OF   THE    ROUGH    RIDERS. 

minutes  had  elapsed  before  he  came  back  to  me,  still 
running,  and  asked  me  if  I  did  not  want  to  be  carried  to 
the  shade. 

I  had  had  a  sunstroke  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  I  had 
been  hoping  that  I  might  be  spared  another  one,  al 
though  I  greatly  feared  it.  It  seemed  to  me  that  as 
long  as  I  had  a  Mauser  bullet  in  me,  it  would  be  nice  to 
die  respectably  of  my  wounds  under  the  shade  of  a  tree 
that  I  could  see  as  I  lay,  instead  of  staying  out  there  in 
the  blistering  long  grass  and  dying  of  sunstroke.  So  I 
told  Burgess  that  I  should  be  very  glad  to  be  taken 
to  the  shade. 

He  took  me  there. 

Afterwards  when  I  found  that  he  was  suffering  from 
an  intensely  painful  case  of  water  on  the  kneecap,  I  won 
dered  at  his  strength. 

He  dropped  me  under  the  shade  of  that  tree  as  if  I  had 
been  a  hot  potato,  and  muttering  wild  and  Western  oaths, 
he  sped  desperately  to  the  front,  which  had-  in  the  mean 
time  adATanced  many  yards. 

That  was  the  last  I  saw  of  Burgess  until  the  battle 
was  over.  He  was  a  brave  man. 

And  while  the  heroic  work  of  our  soldiers  ceased  when 
the  battle  ended,  the  heroic  work  of  our  surgeons  and 
their  assistants  went  on  all  that  afternoon  and  all  that 
night.  The  field  hospital  was  established  at  about  the 
place  where  Hamilton  Fish  had  been  shot.  The  regi 
ment  moved  on  to  camp,  but  its  wounded  were  taken 
back  to  form  a  little  group  under  the  sheltering  shade 
of  a  mango  tree  there  in  the  wilderness.  Captain  Mc- 
Clintock  lay  near  where  I  lay,  and  Major  Brodie  some- 

132 


DEATH    AND   SUFFERING. 

times  lay,  sometimes  sat,  and  sometimes  walked  painfully 
about  us,  nursing  his  shattered  arm.  I  do  not  think  that 
anyone  was  there  except  the  Rough  Riders,  but  some  of 
the  wounded  from  the  First  and  Tenth  Cavalry  may 
have  been  brought  up. 

I  was  taken  away  from  this  hospital  very  late  in  the 
afternoon.  Most  of  the  others  lay  there  all  night,  and 
when  dawn  came,  a  little  row  of  eight  dead  men  who  had 


been  carried  from  among  them  lay  stark  and  ghastly  on 
the  slope  of  a  knoll  to  one  side.  It  is,  perhaps,  well  here 
to  refer  once  and  for  all  to  an  extremely  disagreeable 
subject. 

The  land  crabs  and  their  attending  horrors,  the  Cu 
ban  vultures,  wrought  terrible  mutilations  on  our  dead 
that  day,  and  after  succeeding  battles,  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  several  of  our  wounded  were  killed  by  them 
while  they  lay  waiting  for  treatment. 

There  were  probably  twenty  of  us  in  that  field  hospi- 
133 


THE   STOKY"   OF   THE   BOUGH   EIDERS. 

tal.  It  had  not  even  a  tent  to  cover  it,  but  the  men  were 
well  sheltered  beneath  the  spreading  branches  of  the 
mango  tree.  A  few  had  blankets  to  lie  upon,  but  most 
of  us  were  protected  from  the  wet  grass  only  by  the 
canvas  halves  of  shelter  tents. 

Up  to  this  time,  the  men  had  stood  their  suffering 
with  cool  patience  and  without  comment,  but  now  there 
were  a  few  whose  nerves  were  so  strained  and  racked 
that  they  could  no  longer  control  themselves,  and  they 
groaned  uncannily.  Some  terrible  operations  were  per 
formed  in  that  little  hospital  in  the  woods.  "  Bob  " 
Church  was  there,  and  the  other  surgeons,  and  they  were 
working  with  an  energy  that  could  have  been  born  only 
of  desperation.  Church,  I  remember,  had  cut  the 
sleeves  out  of  his  shirt,  and  his  arms  were  as  red  as  if 
they  had  been  dipped  in  claret.  Indeed  all  the  sur 
geons  were  literally  soaked  in  blood.  I  remember  that 
Church  kneeled  close  to  me  at  one  time  and  my  hand 
touched  his  trousers.  It  came  away  with  a  bright  red 
stain.  The  medical  staff  was  straining  every  nerve  to 
prepare  the  wounded  for  the  journey  to  Siboney. 

I  described  in  Scribner*s  Magazine,  for  September, 
1898,  an  episode  which  occurred  at  this  time.  A  couple 
of  months  later  I  received  a  letter  from  a  man  who  was 
there  when  I  was,  which  said  that  he  remembered  no 
such  incident.  It  seemed  almost  too  pretty  to  be  true, 
and  for  a  time  after  I  had  read  his  letter  I  doubted  my 
own  memory  and  thought  this  might  have  been  one  of 
the  vain  imaginings  which  continually  beset  me  in  those 
hard  hours.  Since  then,  however,  I  have  seen  Captain 
McClintock  in  New  York.  He  was  very  near  to  me 

134 


DEATH   AND   SUFFERING. 

that  day,  and  he  remembered  the  incident  as  well  as  I 
did.  1  shall,  therefore,  describe  it  briefly  here. 

We  had  been  doing  what  we  could  to  keep  our  spirits 
up.  Most  of  us  were  badly  hurt,  and  cheerfulness  was 
difficult  to  bring  about.  Death  stared  some  of  us  in  our 
faces,  and  other  men  were  contemplating  amputation  of 
their  arms  or  legs  with  what  courage  they  could  summon. 
We  were  doing  very  little  talking.  I  was  simply  wait 
ing  for  the  end. 

With  a  suddenness  that  startled  all  of  us,  some  one 
began  to  sing: 

"  My  country,  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty, 
Of  thee  we  sing." 

McClintock  and  I  joined  in: 

"  Land  ivhere  our  fathers  died, 
Land  of  the  Pilgrims'  pride — 

The  strangely  trembling  song  went  on.  It  had  its 
quivering  interruptions  of  pitiful  groans,  and  some  of 
those  who  sang,  sang  jerkily,  because  they  were  in  mortal 
pain.  But  we  were  a  doleful  little  group  of  hurt  Amer 
icans,  off  there  under  a  tree,  in  the  midst  of  the  Cuban 
solitude,  and  nothing  seemed  so  dear  to  us,  just  then, 
as  the  homes  which  we  might  never  see  again  and  the 
country  which  some  of  us  had  left  behind  forever.  Prob 
ably  no  song  was  ever  sung  more  earnestly ;  certainly  no 
words  were  ever  uttered  which  cost  more  effort  to  some 
of  us  than  those  did. 

By  and  by  I  noticed  that  there  was  one  voice  which 
135 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH    RIDERS. 

faltered  and  lagged  behind.     Indeed  I  did  not  hear  it 
until  all  the  rest  of  us  had  finished  with  the  line : 

tv  Let  freedom  ring" 
Then  slowly,  strugglingly,  and  faint,  it  went  on: 

' '  Land  —  of —  the  —  Pilgrims'  — pride  — 
Let  freedom  — 

And  that  last  word  was  a  man's  last  word.     And  one 
more  son  had  died  as  died  the  fathers. 


136 


CHAPTER  VIIL 
AFTER  LAS  GUASIMAS. 

After  the  battle  came  the  reaction.  Human  nerves 
which  had  been  screwed  up  to  the  point  which  those  of 
the  Rough  Riders  had  reached  and  held  during  those 
terrible  hours  when  they  were  in  that  long  grass  and 
among  those  bushes,  must,  of  necessity,  relax  and  leave 
their  owners  weak.  The  regiment  marched  about  two 
and  a  half  miles  forward  and  to  the  left  of  the  spot  whore 
the  battle  had  begun,  and  went  into  camp.  It  wasn't 
much  of  a  camp.  The  morning's  work  had  tired  them 
too  completely — officers  and  men  alike — to  Jet  the  idea 
of  establishing  an  elaborate  camp  seem  reasonable. 
Wood  and  Roosevelt  were  glad  enough  to  relax  disci 
pline  to  some  extent,  and  they  did  not  force  the  men 
to  put  up  their  shelter  tents.  Those  who  wanted  to,  lay 
in  the  shade  and  took  long,  grateful  whiffs  of  the  hot 
air,  which  seemed  cool  in  their  inaction  after  the  terrible 
exertions  of  the  morning.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  most  of 
the  men  had  no  shelter  tents  to  put  up.  Their  blanket 
rolls  had  been  discarded  with  a  charming  disregard  of 
what  would  come,  during  the  march  from  Siboney  to  Las 
Guasimas,  and  during  the  fight  that  followed.  Some  of 
them  were  found  again,  but  a  good  many  of  them  were 
appropriated  by  the  Cubans,  who  appeared  in  numbers 
as  soon  as  the  danger  of  being  shot  had  ended.  To  see 

137 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

a  Cuban  with  a  Rough  "Rider's  blanket,  which  he  sol 
emnly  swore  had  been  in  his  family  for  generations,  be 
came  so  usual  that  it  attracted  no  attention,  and  to  see 
them  in  the  tunics  of  our  soldiers  (which  they  announced 
had  been  theirs  before  the  war  began)  became  as  common 
as  to  see  them  in  their  own  ragged  and  disreputable 
clothes.  Many  stories  were  told  of  the  robbing  of  the 
dead  and  wounded  by  our  allies  that  day,  but  concerning 
their  truth  I  know  nothing.  I  only  know  that  after  that 
day  our  men  were  prone  to  regard  a  Cuban  with  that 
same  delicate  consideration  and  pleasure  with  which  they 
looked  on  land  crabs.  In  view  of  this  almost  universal 
sentiment  of  dislike  and  suspicion,  it  is  greatly  to  the 
credit  of  our  troops  that  there  were  not  more  collisions 
between  them  and  the  soldiers  of  Cuba  Libre.  There 
was  certainly  more  or  less  good  reason  for  this  feeling. 
It  probably  had  its  beginning  in  the  boorish  lack  of 
courtesy  which  had  been  shown  by  the  officers  of  the 
Cuban  army  to  the  officers  and  men  of  the  American 
army  the  night  we  reached  Siboney. 

Of  course  the  first  thing  which  was  done  after  the 
battle  was  to  look  after  the  wounded,  and  see  that  the 
dead  were  found  and  protected  from  the  ravages  of  land 
crabs  and  vultures.  This  was  accomplished  with  all  possi 
ble  expedition.  The  little  field  hospital  had  been  estab 
lished  back  on  the  trail  at  about  the  place  where  we  had 
first  met  the  Spaniards.  Dr.  Bob  Church  was  in  charge. 
Dr.  La  Motte,  the  senior  surgeon,  was  not  there  then, 
and  the  chief  burden  of  the  whole  awful  situation 
fell  on  the  ex-football  player.  Nothing  could  have  ex 
ceeded  his  bravery  on  the  field,  and  nothing  could  have 

138 


AFTER  LAS  GUASIMAS. 

exceeded  his  patience,  skill,  and  delicacy  in  caring  for 
the  men  back  there  under  the  mango  tree.  He  did  not 
forget  in  his  hurry  to  be  kind.  We  had  all  been  told 
that  both  Roosevelt  and  Colonel  Wood  were  dead.  I 
remember  with  vivid  distinctness  the  breath  of  relief  we 
drew  when  Church  assured  us  that  this  was  not  the  case. 

While  I  was  lying  on  the  field  after  I  had  received 
my  wound  someone  had  asked  me  for  my  name  and  ad 
dress,  thinking  that  my  death  was  a  matter  of  only  a  few 
moments.  I  was  so  dazed  by  the  effect  of  the  shot  that 
I  could  not  think  of  it  for  a  moment,  and  told  them  that 
I  did  not  know,  but  that  Colonel  Wood  did.  The  man 
who  had  asked  me — I  did  not  know  him  nor  have  I  since 
been  able  to  find  out  who  he  was — learned  my  name 
from  someone  else,  and  a  few  moments  later,  just  as  the 
final  attack  was  being  made  on  the  old  distillery,  he  told 
Colonel  Wood  that  I  wanted  to  see  him.  That,  of 
course,  was  silly,  for  I  was  too  sick  to  want  to  see  anyone. 
But  Wood's  big  heart  did  not  see  the  absurdity  of  it, 
and  he  sent  me  a  pleasant  message,  saying  that  he  was 
sorry  that  I  had  been  shot.  This  was  brought  by  an 
officer,  whose  identity  I  have  also  been  unable  to  estab 
lish.  I  didn't  care  about  anything  just  then,  and  re 
member  trying  to  turn  over,  and  wearily  wishing  that 
people  wouldn't  bother  me.  Later,  though,  and  just 
after  we  had  heard  that  the  Colonel  was  not  dead,  Wood 
came  to  me,  and  stooping  over,  said : 

"  Hello,  Marshall!     How  are  you  now?  " 

I  was  suffering  the  tortures  of  perdition  and  told 
him  so. 

I  shall  not  forget  the  kind  look  of  solicitude  on  his 
139 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH    RIDERS. 

face  as  I  slowly  drifted  into  unconsciousness  after  I  had 
spoken.  When  I  regained  my  senses  a  few  moments 
later,  his  pleasant  face  was  still  bending  over  me. 

"  I  was  awfully  sorry  that  I  couldn't  go  to  you  when 
you  asked  me  to,"  he  said.  "  I  tried  to,  but  it  was  the 
turning  point  of  the  battle." 

The  idea  that  I  had  sent  for  him  and  that  he  wanted 
to  come  to  see  me  while  the  infernal  fight,  which  I  had 
seen  the  most  of,  was  in  progress,  seemed  so  amusing 
that  I  laughed  at  it,  and  lie  laughed  too. 

"  Won't  you  have  a  drink?  "  he  asked. 

There  had  been  no  stimulant  other  than  aromatic 
spirits  of  ammonia  on  the  field,  and  when  the  colonel 
held  a  little  four  or  five  ounce  vial  of  Scotch  whiskey 
to  my  lips,  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  the  finest  thing  in 
all  the  world. 

A  moment  later  he  was  holding  that  same  little  bottle 
up  for  McOlintock,  and  I  heard  MeClintock  say  between 
the  pain  gasps: 

"By  God!  that's  good!" 
And  so  it  Avas. 

The  men  were  brought  to  join  the  little  group  there  on 
tent-cloths  and  blankets.  There  was  not  a  single  stretcher 
in  the  regiment.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  were 
not  even  enough  tent-cloths  and  blankets  to  handle  the 
wounded  on,  for  I  distinctly  remember  seeing  Privates 
Burgess  and  Love  of  T)  Troop — the  same  men  who  had 
carried  me  to  the  shade — trying  to  bear  a  wounded  man 
on  a  narrow  board.  Once  or  twice  he  rolled  off  and  fell 
in  the  grass,  greatly  to  his  own  exasperation  and  the 
sorrow  of  the  bearers.  T  managed  to  get  a  stretcher, 

140 


AFTER   LAS   GUASIMAS. 

through  the  kind  offices  of  Stephen  Crane.  He  and 
Richard  Harding  Davis  had  come  up  to  me  immediately 
after  I  was  wounded.  I  am  told  that  they  were  the 
only  other  newspaper  men  in  the  fight.  Crane  not  only 
took  niy  story  of  the  fight  down  to  the  coast  for  me,  but 
described  my  misfortune  to  George  Coffin,  Acton  Davies, 
and  Charles  McNichol,  who  were  on  one  of  the  New 
York  Journal's  despatch  boats.  They  brought  up  a 
stretcher  which  may  have  belonged  to  the  Government, 
but  which  I  think  was  the  Journal's  property,  and  took 
me  down  to  the  hospital  ship  "  Olivette." 

Most  of  the  wounded  men  who  were  taken  to  the  field 
hospital,  perforce  remained  there  for  the  night.  Cap 
tain  McClintock  was  too  weak  from  loss  of  blood  to 
make  his  removal  possible.  He  tells  me  that  the 
wounded  lay  there  during  the  long  darkness  and  sang 
songs,  as  they  had  sung  "  My  Country,  'tis  of  Thee," 
before  I  was  carried  away.  Sleep  was  pretty  nearly  out 
of  the  question,  for  the  moans  of  those  in  awful  pain  and 
the  ravings  of  the  men  who  had  been  rendered  delirious 
by  suffering  or  by  drugs,  were  incessant. 

The  utter  inadequateness  of  the  force  sent  to  the  front 
that  day  to  fight  its  way  forward  and  at  the  same  time 
protect  its  own  rear,  was  shown  by  an  episode  near  the 
field  hospital.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Brodie  told  me  of  it 
the  other  day  in  Washington.  Brodie  was  walking  up 
and  down  nursing  his  wounded  arm.  The  regiment  had 
gone  on  to  camp  a  mile  and  a  half  away,  and  the  wounded 
were  left  there  in  the  woods  with  a  small  guard.  One  of 
them  lay  at  Brodie's  feet.  His  eyes  were  on  the  ground 
level. 

143 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    HOUGH   RIDERS. 

"Great  Scott,  Major!  "  lie  said  to  Brodie.  "There 
come  a  lot  of  Spaniards." 

Brodie  looked  in  the  direction  he  indicated,  but  could 
see  no  one. 

u  Get  down  here/'  said  the  wounded  man,  "  and  you 
can  see  them  through  the  bushes  and  grass." 

Brodie  got  down,  and  saw  them.  There  certainly  was 
a  body  of  two  hundred  men  or  more  who  had  approached 
within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  our  pitiful  little  hospital, 
and  were  well  in  the  rear  of  our  regiment.  Fortunately 
for  us  they  were  Cubans.  But  they  might  quite  as  well 
have  boon  Spaniards,  as  far  as  any  means  of  prevention 
that  Avere  in  our  power  were  concerned.  If  the  Spanish 
forces  had  executed  a  flanking  movement  on  us  that  day, 
they  could  have  doubled  us  up,  despite  the  magnificent 
fighting  qualities  of  our  men.  There  were  four  thousand 
of  them  against  our  nine  hundred. 

A  corporal  and  seven  men  were  left  to  guard  the 
hospital.  There  was  good  reason  for  this,  for  the  Span 
ish  sharpshooters,  which  afterwards  infested  that  part  of 
the  country  so  thoroughly,  had  already  begun  their 
Avork  and  Avere  firing  at  our  wounded  and  at  our  sur 
geons  and  our  hospital  men.  There  were  seven  alarms 
during  the  night,  and  one  of  them  was  caused  by  a  shot 
from  a  sharpshooter,  who  hit  someone.  T  cannot  find 
out  who  his  victim  was.  The  other  six  were  caused  by 
land  crabs,  which  were  there  by  the  hundreds  of  thou 
sands,  and  which,  when  they  scuttled  through  the  sun- 
dried  grass  and  leaves,  made  a  noise  quite  loud  enough 
to  be  reasonably  accredited  to  careful  men,  creeping  up. 
The  corporal  in  charge  was  brave.  Tie  did  not  know 

144 


AFTER   LAS    GUASIMAS. 

whether  or  not  the  whole  Spanish  army  was  stealing 
on  us  there  in  the  dark,  yet  he  took  his  seven  men  and 
went  out  as  bravely  against  the  unknown  terrors  of  the 
Cuban  wilderness  as  if  those  men  had  numbered  seven 
thousand. 

And  here  it  is  well  to  say  a  word  about  those  Spanish 
sharpshooters.  That  they  disregarded  all  the  rules  of 
civilized  warfare  and  ordinary,  straight  humanity,  in  fir 
ing  on  our  surgeons  and  wounded  and  into  our  hospitals, 
that  day  and  on  succeeding  days,  there  is  no  doubt  what 
ever.  I  cannot  believe  that  they  could  have  been  regu 
lar  Spanish  soldiers.  Our  hatred  for  the  Spaniards  as 
a  common  enemy  should  not  make  us  forget  that  they 
were  brave  men  in  fight,  and  brave  men  are  not  likely 
to  do  such  things.  An  explanation  which  most  of  the 
officers  of  the  American  army  down  there  afterwards 
heard  from  the  Spaniards  themselves,  and  which  some  of 
them  told  to  me,  does  not  seem  unreasonable.  The  jails 
in  Santiago  were  full  of  military  prisoners.  The  city 
had  long  been  the  abiding  place  of  large  bodies  of  Span 
ish  troops,  and  these  troops  were  discontented  because 
they  had  not  been  paid  and  were  not  well.  Offences 
against  army  law,  both  serious  and  petty,  were  common 
among  them.  Many  soldiers  were  locked  up. 

When  our  army  came,  and  when  the  Spanish  com 
manding  officers  saw  that  there  was  likely  to.  be  a  lack 
of  food  in  Santiago  before  they  whipped  us  and  drove 
us  away — which  they  undoubtedly  thought  they  could 
more  or  less  easily  accomplish — these  prisoners  became 
a  problem.  It  was  finally  decided  to  give  them  rifles 
and  ammunition  and  tell  them  to  get  out,  kill  as  many 
10  145 


THE   STOKY    OF   THE    ROUGH   EIDERS. 

Americans  as  they  could,  and  never  come  back  to  San 
tiago  under  pain  of  death.  The  prisoners  appreciated 
the  situation.  They  had  a  wholesome  and  natural  long 
ing  for  freedom  on  any  terms.  They  took  the  rifles 
and  the  ammunition  and  got  out.  A  few  of  them  es 
caped  to  parts  of  the  country  where  they  did  not  come 
in  contact  with  our  troops  until  after  the  surrender,  but 
most  of  them  were  released  at  places  where  they  had 
either  to  run  the  chance  of  being  shot  by  their  own 
countrymen  or  take  the  risk  of  being  shot  by  Americans. 
They  found  that  our  lines  were  much  less  closely 
guarded  than  were  the  Spanish  lines,  and  they  worked 
their  way  into  them.  A  few  of  them  gave  themselves 
up  to  our  officers  and  told  what  they  knew  of  the  Span 
ish  situation.  But  by  far  the  greater  number  of  them, 
either  from  that  love  of  country  which  animates  the 
meanest  souls,  or  from  the  belief  that  we  were  a  set  of 
bloodthirsty  and  merciless  ruffians  who  would  kill  them 
with  torture  if  they  fell  into  our  hands  (a  belief  which 
was  carefully  fostered  by  the  Spanish  press  in  Cuba  and 
which  was  really  generally  held  by  the  average  unin 
telligent,  uneducated  Spanish  soldier),  refused  to  sur 
render  themselves  or  to  give  us  information,  and  took 
their  positions  in  the  trees  along  the  trails  within  our 
lines,  and  cleverly  concealing  themselves  with  leaves 
and  bushes,  proceeded  to  prey  on  whoever  came  within 
their  range. 

Shots  were  fired  at  us  as  I  was  being  carried  down 
the  trail  to  Siboney,  I  am  told,  although  I  did  not  realize 
it  at  the  time.  James  Creelman's  litter-poles  were 
twice  penetrated  by  bullets  as  he  was  being  taken  to  the 

146 


AFTER   LAS   GUASIMAS. 

rear  from  El  Caney,  and  at  least  six  wounded  men  were 
killed  at  one  time  or  another.  So  bold  were  these 
scamps  that  they  actually  got  close  enough  to  the  hos 
pital  near  General  Sliafter's  headquarters  later  in  the 
campaign,  to  send  several  bullets  through  the  canvas 
of  its  tent.  So  far  as  I  can  learn,  no  organized  effort 
was  ever  made  to  drive  them  away  from  the  trails  along 
which  our  wounded  men  were  continually  being  carried 
and  our  well  men  constantly  passing  to  and  fro. 

Up  to  the  very  time  of  the  surrender,  and  during  the 
truce,  these  men  kept  up  their  hellish  guerrilla  warfare 
on  our  troops,  and  many  a  man  carries  a  wound  to-day 
or  fills  a  grave  in  Cuba,  who  never  would  have  been 
shot  if  they  had  been  driven  out.  Of  course  our  men 
did  what  they  could  in  a  casual  way,  to  kill  them.  In 
dividual  soldiers,  finding  themselves  fired  upon,  fired 
back,  and  became  mightily  suspicious  of  all  those 
branches  in  the  trees  which  they  saw  moving  in  any  way 
which  was  not  warranted  by  the  breeze  which  blew  as 
they  approached,  but  they  made  little  impression  on  the 
Spanish  sharpshooters. 

If  I  am  to  believe  the  reports  which  I  have  heard, 
there  could  not  have  been  less  than  two  hundred  of 
these  men.  Once  in  a  while  one  of  our  men  would 
pot  one  of  them,  and  he  would  fall  from  his  tree  all 
spread  out  like  a  killed  crane,  with  his  concealing 
branches  still  tied  to  him.  But  the  evil  was  really  only 
wiped  out  with  the  surrender  of  the  Spanish  army.  It  is 
impossible  not  to  feel  a  sort  of  qualified  admiration  for 
the  rough  bravery  of  these  chaps  who  were  within  an 
enemy's  lines  and  entirely  cut  off  from  the  possibility 

147 


THE   STORY    OF   THE    HOUGH    RIDERS. 

of  getting  food  or  other  supplies  from  their  own  army, 
but  it  is  equally  impossible  to  feel  anything  other  than 
unspeakable  horror  for  the  spirit  which  induced  them 
to  fire  on  our  wounded  and  into  our  hospitals,  in  open 
disregard  of  the  dictates  of  humanity  and  the  neutrality 
of  the  Red  Cross  flag  and  badge. 

They  make  you  think  of  the  Spaniard  who  killed 
Lieutenant  Ord.  Ord  and  his  men  had  captured  a  rifle- 
pit,  A  Spaniard  was  lying  in  this  trench,  badly  wounded 
but  still  firing.  One  of  Ord's  men  did  not  see  that  he 
was  wounded  and  was  about  to  kill  him.  Ord  knocked 
his  gun  up  and  told  him  not  to  fire  at  a  wounded  man. 
The  wounded  man  took  deliberate  aim  at  the  American 
officer  who  was  trying  to  save  his  life  and  blew  his  brains 
out.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  men  of  Ord's  com 
mand  killed  the  Spaniard  with  the  butts  of  their  rifles. 
They  did  not  give  him  the  honor  of  dying  as  a  soldier 
wants  to  die — from  bullets. 

As  Friday  night  had  been  the  most  terrible  night  in 
the  field  hospital,  so  Saturday  night  was  the  worst  night 
at  Siboiiey.  The  men  whose  experiences  I  have  de 
scribed  at  the  field  hospital  had  not  all  been  carried 
down  to  Siboney  before  midnight  of  Saturday.  Prob 
ably  half  a  dozen  of  us  had  been  taken  out  to  the  hospital 
ship  "  Olivette,"  which  was  slowly  cruising  up  and  down, 
over  the  sickening  swell  of  the  Caribbean  Sea.  Major 
Appell  had  tried  to  let  her  ride  at  anchor,  but  had  found 
that  the  motion  was  much  less  distressing  to  us  when  her 
screw  was  turning. 

It  was  along  toward  evening  when  the  last  of  the  men 
who  had  been  shot  the  day  before,  but  were  still  able  to 

148 


AFTEK    LAS    GUASIMAS. 

walk,  came  limping  into  Siboney.  Some  of  them  strug 
gled  painfully  down  the  precipitous  path  which  led  from 
the  crest  of  the  cliff  to  the  little  group  of  shanties  under 
neath,  but  most  of  them  had  found  that  the  valley  road 
wras  easiest,  and  had  come  in  by  the  way  which  General 
Young's  forces  took  in  going  to  the  front. 

There  were  so  many  of  the  wounded,  and  of  those  who 
were  just  beginning  to  come  down  with  fever,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  give  even  shelter  to  all  of  them.  There 
were  so  few  surgeons  and  hospital  men  that  the  problem 
of  medical  attendance  was  absolutely  unsolvable,  and 
noon  of  Sunday  had  come  before  the  last  of  the  sufferers 
had  received  attention. 

At  midnight,  the  bright  moonlight  shone  upon  a  grue 
some  scene.  The  sick  and  wounded  were  lying  every 
where.  The  silence  would  have  been  complete  had  it 
not  been  for  the  whispered  talking  of  the  surgeons,  and 
an  occasional  groan  from  some  man  in  agony.  Little 
piazzas  fronted  most  of  the  huts.  One  of  these,  which 
had  been  turned  over  to  the  New  York  Journdl  by  the 
Cubans  for  a  headquarters,  was  the  gathering  place  for 
most  of  the  suffering  Hough  "Riders.  Brewer,  who  had 
gone  to  Cuba  to  establish  a  post-office,  and  who  after 
wards  died  of  yellow  fever,  had  piled  his  mail  bags  on 
one  end  of  this  hut's  piazza.  They  made  capital  beds, 
and  were  covered  by  sleeping  men.  The  sleepers  had 
twisted  themselves  into  all  sorts  of  grotesque  positions  to 
fit  their  uneven  resting  places  and  their  aching  limbs. 
By  the  door,  like  a  pale-faced  sentinel,  was  Arthur 
Crosby,  in  a  rocking-chair.  TTis  head  and  arms  were 
swathed  in  blood-stained  bandages  and  his  agony  was 

149 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH    RIDERS. 

violent.  In  the  brim  of  his  hat  there  was  a  little  hole 
which  showed  where  the  bullet  had  passed  before  it  tore 
off  his  cheek,  perforated  the  palm  of  his  left  hand,  and 
then  buried  itself  in  his  chest.  Just  how  one  bullet 
could  have  made  this  wound  is  a  pretty  problem,  and 
Crosby  does  not  know.  He  probably  had  the  back  of  his 
hand  against  his  chin,  as  he  was  lying  in  the  grass,  when 
he  was  shot.  He  had  been  one  of  the  lucky  few  to 
whom  had  been  given  cot  beds  when  they  reached  the 
hospital,  but  the  agony  of  a  recumbent  position  had  been 
so  great  that  he  had  gladly  swapped  his  bed  for  a  rock 
ing-chair,  and  there  he  sat  through  all  the  dreadful  night, 
his  face  convulsed  with  agony,  but  never  groaning  and 
never  making  one  complaint.  He  was  one  of  the  Rough 
Riders. 

Not  far  from  Crosby  lay  Sergeant  Basil  Ricketts. 
He  had  a  bullet  in  his  thigh.  ~No  man  ever  endured 
pain  with  greater  fortitude  than  Ricketts  showed. 
Personally  I  can  never  forget  him,  for  before  he  was 
wounded  he  made  one  of  the  men  who  carried  me  from 
the  sun  into  the  shade.  It  is  interesting  to  speak  here 
of  an  episode  in  the  life  of  his  father,  General  Ricketts : 

During  the  War  of  the  Rebellion,  he  was  hit  by  one 
of  the  old  Minie  balls,  in  nearly  the  same  place  which 
the  Mauser  bullet  afterwards  found  in  his  son  at  Las 
Guasimas.  Mrs.  Ricketts  was  staying  at  a  hotel  just 
within  the  Union  lines.  She  heard  that  her  husband 
was  wounded,  and  that  night  went  out  to  find  him.  He 
was  lying  on  the  field,  not  far  from  the  Confederate  out 
posts.  The  surgeons  were  bending  over  him  and  ex 
plaining  to  him  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  amputate 

150 


AFTER  LAS   GUASIMAS. 

his  leg.  Mrs.  Eicketts  protested,  but  the  surgeons  told 
her  he  would  die  from  loss  of  blood  or  gangrene,  if  the 
leg  were  not  taken  off. 

"  If  he  were  in  a  Northern  hospital/'  they  said,  "  we 
might  save  his  leg,  but  down  here,  where  good  nursing 
is  impossible,  we  cannot  think  of  risking  it." 

"  I  will  stay  and  nurse  him,"  Mrs.  Ricketts  declared. 

With  water  from  the  canteens  of  dead  men,  she  laved 
his  wound  all  that  night;  when  morning  came,  the  Union 
troops  had  found  it  necessary  to  fall  back,  and  she  was 
left  with  her  wounded  husband  in  Confederate  territory. 
They  were  captured,  and  with  seventeen  other  Union 
officers  put  into  a  single  room  in  Libby  prison,  where 
Mrs.  Ricketts  was  the  only  woman.  The  Confederates 
often  offered  to  exchange  her,  but  she  had  told  the  sur 
geons  that  she  would  stay  and  nurse  her  husband,  and 
stay  she  did.  For  six  months,  she  worked  there,  saving 
not  only  her  husband's  life,  but  the  lives  of  many  other 
Union  officers. 

Basil  Ricketts  took  his  wound  as  the  son  of  such 
parents  might  be  expected  to  take  a  wound.  One  of  the 
sergeants  of  the  Rough  Riders  had  served  under  General 
Ricketts,  and  was  the  first  man  to  come  up  to  Basil 
after  he  had  been  shot. 

"  I'm  hit,"  said  Ricketts. 

The  old  sergeant  leaned  over  him  and  saw  that  he  was 
taking  it  calmly. 

"God  almighty,"  said  the  sergeant,  "wouldn't  the 
general  be  tickled  if  he  could  see  you  now!  " 

After  Ricketts  returned  to  New  York,  he  suffered 
terribly  from  fever,  and  for  a  long  time  lay  in  St.  Luke's 

151 


THE   STORY    OF   THE    HOUGH   RIDERS. 

Hospital  in  a  room  not  far  from  mine.  1  have  never 
seen  him  since  the  war,  but  nurses  and  doctors  alike 
continually  told  me  of  the  plucky  way  in  which  he  en 
dured  his  pain. 

Not  far  away  from  Ricketts  lay  Lieutenant  Dever- 
eaux,  of  Colorado  Springs.  'Next  to  McClintoek's,  his 
wound  was  the  most  painful  that  I  knew  of  during  the 
campaign.  The  bones  of  his  forearm  were  literally 
ground  to  powder.  Later  he  was  taken  out  to  the 
"  Olivette/'  and  he  spent  much  of  his  time  in  an  arm 
chair  in  front  of  my  stateroom.  The  surgeons  made  a 
mistake  in  thinking  that  the  bullet  had  gone  down  in 
stead  of  up,  and  put  him  through  the  most  dreadful 
agonies  of  probing.  He  said  never  a  word,  but  took  his 
pain  as  a  man  should  take  it,  quietly  and  without  pro 
test.  The  same  great  surgeon  who  carved  me  up,  and 
thereby  saved  my  life,  worked  over  Uevereaux  in  New 
York,  and  saved  his  arm.  Dr.  Robert  Abbe  occasionally 
pulls  from  his  pocket,  even  now,  a  battered  bit  of  steel. 
This  is  the  bullet  which  he  took  from  Lieutenant  Dever- 
eaux. 

Over  in  the  corner,  on  the  inside  of  the  shanty,  lay 
Burr  Mclntosh.  The  troubles  which  he  had  with  sweet 
Spanish  wine  had  not  been  enough  for  him.  Tie  was 
the  first  man  to  go  down  with  yellow  fever,  and  its  first 
stages  were  that  night  convulsing  him  with  pain  and 
leading  his  mind  off  into  the  unknown  paths  of  mutter 
ing  delirium.  McTntosli  has  now  recovered,  and  it  is 
fair  to  tell  some  details  of  what  his  wandering  brain 
dwelt  upon  during  that  uncanny  night.  Tie  had  in  mind 
the  production  of  a  play  called  the  "  War  Correspond- 

152 


AFTER   LAS   GUASIMAS. 

ent,"  and  a  part  of  his  costume  was  to  consist  of  a  high 
pair  of  russet  leather  cavalry  boots.  "With  an  eye  to  the 
value  of  theatrical  effect,  he  had  purchased  these  boots 
before  he  left  New  York,  and  taken  them  to  Cuba  with 
him.  It  was  his  plan  to  wrear  footgear  on  the  stage 
which  had  actually  been  stained  by  Cuban  mud,  and,  if 
possible,  to  see  to  it  that,  during  the  campaign,  some 
real  blood  fell  upon  those  boots.  From  the  moment 
of  his  landing  in  Cuba,  envious  glances  had  been  cast 
upon  them  by  troopers  whose  shoes  were  going  the 
ruined  way  of  army  shoes  in  Cuba.  They  were  stolen 
the  first  day.  That  night  he  got  them  back.  The  next 
day,  before  the  start  to  Siboney,  another  man  purloined 
them  and  he  recovered  them  after  much  detective  work, 
just  before  the  yellow  fever  caught  him  in  its  scraggy 
arms.  As  he  lay  there,  the  precious  boots  were  lovingly 
gathered  beneath  his  head.  lie  talked  of  them  inces 
santly.  Home,  friends,  ambition — all  were  subordinate 
in  his  delirium,  to  the  yellow  boots.  In  the  middle  of 
the  night  a  shadowy  trooper  appeared,  ghostlike,  from 
nowhere.  He  carefully  picked  his  shoeless  way  among 
the  wounded  men  and  steered  a  course  for  Mclntosh. 
When  he  went  out,  the  yellow  boots  were  closely  clasped 
beneath  his  tunic,  and  Mclntosh,  his  head  now  on  the 
floor,  raved  on  about  them. 

The  story  of  that  night  in  the  hospital  might  be  much 
prolonged,  but  I  could  only  write  a  repetition  of  such 
anecdotes.  The  men  lay  there  and  suffered,  the  sur 
geons  worked,  'midst  blood  and  groans.  The  only 
light  in  the  main  building  came  from  a  bottle  which 
some  thoughtful  Cuban  had  half  filled  with  native  fire- 

155 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    ROUGH   EIDERS 

bugs.  Sometimes  a  chap  would  enter  with  a  blazing 
brand  from  a  neighboring  campfire  and  cast  a  flickering, 
ghastly  glow  about  him;  and  so  the  night  dragged  on 
until  the  sudden  Cuban  dawn. 

After  Wood  was  made  Governor  of  Santiago  province, 
he  went  out  to  look  over  the  old  battle-ground.  The 
strongest  testimony  to  the  fierceness  of  the  fire  he  found 
in  the  condition  of  the  trees  (and  this  was  six  months 
after  the  battle  had  been  fought).  At  the  point  where 
the  Spaniards  first  opened  on  us,  the  forest  looked  as  if  a 
conflagration  had  swept  it.  The  trees  had  been  abso 
lutely  killed  by  the  terrible  hail  of  bullets  which  had 
been  poured  into  them,  while  our  men  were  advancing 
through  them. 

The  Rough  Riders  were  not  comfortable  in  their  new 
camp.  They  had  thrown  away  most  of  their  tents  and 
blankets,  and  the  weather  had  turned  bad.  They  began 
to  realize  what  the  rainy  season  in  Cuba  means.  Those 
who  had  tents,  put-  them  up,  but  they  offered  little  pro 
tection  against  the  tropical  downpours,  which  beat  the 
canvas  to  earth  and  sent  streams  of  water  down  the  little 
slopes  actually  strong  enough  to  sweep  mattresses  and 
blankets  out  from  under  tents,  unless  they  were  anchored 
down  by  the  recumbent  forms  of  sturdy  troopers. 

The  cam])  was  within  two  thousand  yards  of  the 
Spanish  trenches,  but  not  a  shot  was  fired. 

It  would  have  been  worse  than  foolish  to  have  sent  the 
regiment  forward  into  another  fight  just  then,  when 
everything  was  considered,  yet  the  men  were  anxious 
to  go.  By  this  time  the  Rough  Riders  had  "  got  their 
mad  up."  During  the  first  battle  they  had  killed  Span- 

156 


AFTER   LAS   GUASIMAS. 

iards  as  a  matter  of  business,  but  the  devilish  work  of  the 
sharpshooters  on  their  wounded,  and  the  thousand  and 
one  discomforts  growing  out  of  the  campaign — worse 
discomforts  than  the  hardiest  cowboy  among  them  had 
ever  suffered  on  our  plains — had  exasperated  them  to  the 
point  of  frenzy,  for  they  longed  now  to  kill  Spaniards 
because  they  hated  them.  El  Caney  was  off  at  the  right, 
in  the  distance,  and  El  Poso,  where  some  of  them  were 
to  meet  their  deaths  in  a  few  days,  was  well  to  the  left. 

The  men  were  very  curious  about  El  Caney.  It  was 
understood  to  be  a  Spanish  stronghold,  and  it  was  sup 
posed  that  it  would  be  the  next  point  that  the  regiment 
would  attack.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  Lawton's  and 
Chaff  ee's  men  that  fought  there,  but  after  their  fight 
some  Rough  Eiders  visited  it.  Captain  Huston  and 
Benjamin  Harney  were  in  the  party. 

Harney,  by  the  Avay,  is  the  sculptor  who  missed  a 
chance  to  enlist  in  the  regiment  in  the  States,  and  who 
was  so  anxious  to  join  it  that  he  followed  it  to  Cuba  for 
the  purpose.  He  figured  that  by  the  time  he  got  there 
enough  men  would  have  been  killed  and  wounded  to 
make  room  for  him.  He  landed  in  Cuba  on  Saturday 
night,  and  his  unpiloted  trip  from  Siboney  to  where  the 
Rough  Riders  were  encamped  was  full  of  perils  from 
sharpshooters.  When  he  got  there  he  found  that  he  had 
been  right  about  there  being  room  for  him.  He  was  al 
most  exhausted  by  his  long  and  dangerous  tramp,  but  he 
was  fully  rewarded  when  he  heard  the  ringing  cheer 
which  the  men  sent  up  for  him  when  they  found  how 
far  he  had  come  and  what  he  had  come  for,  and  when 
he  was  gladly  accepted  and  enlisted  as  a  member  of  the 

157 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    ROUGH    EIDERS. 

best  volunteer  regiment  that  ever  fought  in  our  army 
or  any  other  army. 

Afterwards,  in  writing  home,  he  said,  first,  that  he  had 
plenty  of  material  for  sculpting,  and  second,  that  the 
stone  fort  at  El  Caney,  which  he  had  just  visited,  was  an 
absolute  slaughter  pen.  Its  walls  were  literally  kalso- 
mined  with  the  blood  of  dead  Spanish  soldiers.  It  will 
be  remembered  that  this  fort  was  the  one  which  sur 
rendered  to  Mr.  James  Creelman  of  the  New  York 
Journal.  Creelman  was  shot  while  it  was  being  done, 
but  he  gained  distinction  as  being  the  only  newspaper 
correspondent  to  whom  a  hostile  force  had  ever  sur 
rendered  a  fortification. 

The  camp  was  on  the  right  of  the  main  road  leading  to 
Santiago,  and  had  no  pleasant  features  that  I  have  been 
able  to  learn.  The  tents  were  pitched  in  a  hollow  in 
stead  of  on  high  ground,  which  was  plentiful  there 
abouts,  and  the  men  suffered  accordingly,  not  only  when 
the  rains  descended  as  I  have  described,  but  from  malaria 
and  other  fevers.  Every  day  four  or  five  Rough  Riders 
went  out  over  the  trail  to  the  hospital  at  the  rear.  Wood 
and  Roosevelt  had  been  mighty  good  to  the  men  at 
San  Antonio  and  Tampa,  as  well  as  on  the  transport,  and 
after  they  landed  in  Cuba,  but  it  was  in  this  camp  that 
the  men  began  to  really  appreciate  the  stuff  of  which  their 
commanding  officers  were  made.  Whatever  the  men 
had  to  go  without,  they  went  without  themselves.  They 
would  take  no  better  shelter  than  their  men  had,  and 
they  would  eat  no  better  food  than  was  offered  to  the  men 
to  eat.  There  were  thousands  of  tons  of  rations  out  in 
the  bay  on  the  transports,  but  they  were  disembarked 

158 


AFTER   LAS    GUASIMAS. 

and  brought  up  the  trail  so  slowly  that  the  Rough  Riders 
were  only  allowed  one-third  rations.  It  was  understood 
that  the  officers  should  have  something  a  little  better 
than  this,  and  they  had  carried  with  them  to  the  front 
a  few  delicacies  like  canned  tomatoes.  But  Wood  and 
Roosevelt  would  touch  none  of  them.  Within  a  couple 
of  days  it  was  the  rule  among  the  Rough  Riders  that  the 
officers  would  accept  nothing  which  the  men  could  not 
get.  What  poor  dainties  did  come  in  the  regiment's  way 
went  to  the  sick  and  not  to  the  officers'  mess.  This,  per 
haps,  explains,  in  some  slight  measure,  the  devotion 
which  the  men  showed  for  their  officers  later  in  the 
campaign. 

There  were  one  or  two  exceptions  to  this  rule  of 
complete  consideration,  but  I  only  mention  them  because 
if  I  did  not  it  might  be  thought  that  I  did  not  know  of 
them.  In  so  large  a  body  of  men  as  were  the  Rough 
Riders,  there  are  certain  to  be  some  fellowrs  who  lack 
the  finer  points.  There  were  some  in  the  Rough  Riders, 
just  as  there  were  one  or  two  men  who  were  not  brave. 
I  shall  not  speak  of  them  again,  because  the  general 
spirit  of  the  regiment  was  so  fine  and  whole-souled  and 
valorous,  that  it  deserves  to  go  down  in  history  as  an 
organization  practically  without  flaws. 

At  first,  some  of  the  officers  and  men  built  shacks 
which  they  thatched  with  palm  and  banana  leaves.  This 
was  very  nice  till  night  came  on,  when  tarantulas  and 
other  callers  took  to  dropping  from  the  greenery  of  the 
roofs.  These  little  episodes  were  rendered  doubly  dis 
agreeable  by  the  fact  that  the  men  could  not  light  lights 
—not  even  matches — in  order  to  make  search  for  the 

159 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   HOUGH   EIDERS. 

invading  vermin.  To  make  a  light  was  likely  to  be 
fatal.  The  Spaniards,  in  their  trenches,  were  watching 
for  the  foolish  ones  who  did  it,  and  their  temerity  was 
always  followed  by  a  shot,  if  not  a  volley.  The  Spanish 
sharpshooters  who  had  their  eyes  on  the  Hough  Riders 
during  these  trying  days  and  nights  were  really  sharp 
shooters.  They  could  easily  wing  a  man  across  the  short 
space  which  separated  them,  and  they  often  did.  During 
the  constantly  recurring  night  rainstorms,  which  were  al 
ways  accompanied  by  the  most  vivid  and  disconcerting 
tropical  lightning — a  kind  of  flash  which  is  totally  un 
known  and  totally  indescribable  to  the  people  North— 
they  frequently  hit  men. 

The  long  nights  in  the  trenches  were  not  pleasant. 
They  were  half-full  of  water  after  the  rains.  Many  and 
many  a  man  has  told  me  that  he  stood  up  to  his  knees  in 
the  Cuban  rain-water  while  he  was  waiting  for  the  Span 
iards  to  shoot  at  him.  One  man — I  think  it  was  the 
sculptor,  Benjamin  Ilarney — tried  to  keep  out  of  this 
water  one  night  by  kneeling  on  a  little  mound  in  the 
trench.  AVhen  morning  caine  shining  rosily  over  the 
hills,  he  looked  at  the  mound.  He  found  that  he  had 
been  kneeling  on  a  Spanish  soldier's  grave,  and  that  the 
corpse  had  stuck  a  hand  out  of  the  edge  of  it  as  if  in 
protest  at  the  desecration. 

These  few  days  had  no  cheerful  features.  In  this 
camp  the  men  had  momentarily  expected  battle  orders, 
their  quarters  had  been  uncomfortable;  tarantulas, 
vermin,  and  other  disagreeabilities,  had  made  sleep  at 
night  almost  impossible.  During  the  days  the  men  had 
slept  in  such  shade  as  they  could  find  when  it  was  not 

160 


AFTER   LAS    GUASIMAS. 

raining,  and  had  done  their  best  to  keep  dry  and  save 
their  small  properties  from  floating  off  in  the  floods  when 
it  was  raining.  Their  rations  of  one-third  allowance  of 
bacon,  hardtack,  and  coffee  without  sugar,  had  not  been 
sufficient  to  keep  their  physical  strength  up,  and  their 
spirits  drooped  accordingly.  This  unfortunate  condition 
was  aggravated  among  the  smokers  of  the  regiment — and 
what  member  of  the  Rough  Eiders  was  not  a  smoker?— 
by  the  lack  of  tobacco.  It  was  at  this  time  that  a  little 
two-ounce  package  of  smoking  tobacco  which  some  man 
had  come  into  possession  of  in  a  way  which  history  has 
forgotten,  was  auctioned  for  forty-seven  dollars  and  fifty 
cents. 

A  dramatic  episode  occurred.  A  Spaniard  was  cap 
tured  in  a  tree.  He  was  not  one  of  the  sharpshooters, 
for  he  had  no  rifle.  But  he  was  armed  with  a  revolver 
and  wore  the  uniform  of  the  Spanish  regular,  so  that  he 
was  legitimate  prey  of  war.  He  was  captured  by  a 
Cuban,  who  turned  him  over  to  the  Rough  Riders.  In 
his  pockets  they  found  many  incriminating  papers.  He 
was,  almost  without  doubt,  an  officer  of  some  rank,  for 
there  were  documents  of  an  official  nature  in  his  clothes 
which  would  hardly  have  been  entrusted  to  a  private 
soldier.  He  said  he  was  a  Cuban  who  had  been  cap 
tured  by  the  Spaniards  and  forced  to  put  on  a  Spanish 
uniform,  and  maintained  that  his  only  wish  was  to  rejoin 
the  Cuban  army.  No  one  believed  this,  but  because 
of  his  statements  he  was  finally  given  back  to  the  Cubans 
by  Captain  Luna,  who  had  him  in  charge.  He  might 
much  better  have  said  nothing  about  the  Cubans,  and 
left  himself  in  American  hands,  for  the  Cubans  took  him 
11  161 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   HOUGH   RIDERS. 

up  to  a  hill  to  the  left  of  where  the  Rough  Riders  were 
encamped,  and  cnt  him  to  pieces  without  mercy  and  in 
spite  of  the  protests  made  by  two  or  three  American 
private  soldiers  who  were  present.  When  American 
officers,  who  had  been  summoned,  arrived,  they  found 
the  Spaniard  dead. 

On  the  evening  of  June  30th  the  regiment  went  to 
El  Poso,  which  the  Spaniards  had  been  forced,  by  our 
artillery  fire,  to  evacuate. 

They  did  not  reach  this  last  point  until  late  at  night. 
It  wras,  indeed,  long  after  eleven  o'clock  before  they 
were  really  in  the  place  which  had  been  assigned  to 
them  as  camp — an  assignment  which  the  following  day's 
events  proved  to  be  either  criminally  careless  or  incon 
ceivably  stupid. 

I  may,  perhaps,  be  excused  for  saving  the  story  of  the 
burial  of  the  dead  in  the  battle  of  Las  Guasimas  for  the 
end  of  this  chapter.  It  Avas  the  burial  of  the  first  dead 
in  the  army,  during  the  Spanish-American  war.  It  was 
significant,  and  it  was  grim,  and  it  was  pitiful.  I  do 
not  suppose  that  there  ever  was  a  regiment  in  which  the 
men,  as  individuals,  had  a  higher  regard  for  each  other. 
The  mere  fact  that  another  man  had  been  accepted  as  a 
member  of  this  carefully  selected  organization  gave  you 
a  certain  respect  for  him.  You  knew  what  you  had  been 
through  yourself. 

The  men  loved  one  another,  as  strong  men  love  those 
who  have  passed  through  some  trials  with  them  already, 
and  are  considered  completely  competent  to  pass  through 
other  trials  with  them. 

Yet  when  the  burial  of  the  dead  came,   not  more 


AFTER   LAS   GUAS1MAS. 

than  half  of  the  men  in  the  regiment  went  out  to 
see  the  ceremony.  Tired,  tired,  tired!  Xo  men  were 
ever  more  thoroughly  worn  out  than  they  were  when 
they  made  their  primitive  camp  on  that  Cuban  hill 
side  over  to  the  right  of  where  Hamilton  Fish  was 
killed. 

Colonel  Wood  had  ordered  a  detail  in  which  all  the 
troops  were  represented,  to  dig  the  grave  the  night  be 
fore.  These  men  were  proud  of  their  task,  and  they 
were  anxious  to  perform  it,  but  they  were  too  terribly 
tired  to  do  it  well.  Eight  dead  men  were  lying  in  a 
gruesome  row  near  the  field  hospital  under  that  mango 
tree — a  tree  which  should  be  surrounded  by  a  bronze 
railing  and  held  as  an  exhibition  for  future  generations 
of  Americans  who  are  interested  in  what  our  men  did 
in  Cuba  in  those  summer  days  of  Eighteen  Xinety- 
Eight. 

These  were  not  all  the  dead,  but  they  were  the  ones 
who  were  laid  away  on  Saturday  morning  in  that  first 
crude  grave. 

Tired,  dead  tired,  were  the  men  who  dug  it.  They 
were  too  tired  to  dig  separate  graves  for  their  hero  com 
rades.  But  what  they  could,  they  did.  They  began  the 
work  on  that  unlucky  Friday  night.  How  near  they 
were  to  the  point  of  complete  exhaustion  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  it  was  not  finished  until  the  middle  of  the  fol 
lowing  morning. 

At  eleven  o'clock,  officers'  call  was  sounded.  All  men 
in  command  of  troops  were  told  that  the  funeral  ser 
vices  over  the  men  who  had  fallen  the  day  before  would 
occur  in  half  an  hour.  Xo  one  was  compelled  to  go. 

163 


THE   STORY   OF   THE    ROUGH    RIDERS. 

Neither  officers  nor  men  turned  out  because  they  were 
told  to.  Many  of  the  men  were  busy  on  other  tasks 
connected  with  the  new  camp,  and  all  had  plenty  to  do 
in  cleaning  guns  and  getting  themselves  and  their  equip 
ment  ready  for  the  next  battle. 

The  ceremony  was  brief. 

"  I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,  saith  the  Lord," 
Chaplain  Brown  repeated,  and  so  on,  through  the  Epis 
copal  service.  He  knelt  and  prayed  by  the  trench.  The 
men  knelt  too,  and  as  they  doffed  their  campaign  hats, 
the  Cuban  sun  beat  doAYii  as  fiercely  on  them,  and  on  the 
iiK^ii  in  the  trench  before  them,  whose  battles  Avere  fin 
ished  forever,  as  it  had  the  day  before  on  all  of  them 
when  the  fight  began.  Some  one  threw  a  heavy  clod 
into  the  trench.  The  men  rose,  and  their  deep  bass 
voices  joined  in  u  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee."  It  was 
as  impressive  as  the  singing  of  the  patriot's  hymn  had 
been  in  the  field  hospital. 

It  is  useless  for  me  to  tell  how  those  men  lay  there; 
they  were  without  coffins,  and  their  only  shrouds  were 
the  uniforms  in  which  they  had  nobly  died.  The  Cuban 
soil  was  shovelled  over  them.  The  chief  bugler  stood 
upon  the  mound  and  blew  the  mournful  notes  of  "  taps," 
and  the  ceremony  was  finished.  Their  living  comrades 
marked  their  grave  with  stones  and  bits  of  wood.  The 
names  of  the  men  that  slept  there  were  written  on  the 
wood. 

Now,  eight  months  after  the  Avar  ended,  even  these 
markings  have  been  obliterated.  Some  one  has  erected 
a  tombstone,  which,  reads: 


164 


Where  the  Rough  Eiders  waited  in  the  Quivering  Heat  before  the  charge 
of  San  Juan . 


AFTER   LAS    QUASI  MAS. 


To  the 
MEMORY  OF 

EIGHT 
UNKNOWN  SOLDIERS. 


The  stone  was  not  officially  erected,  and  the  names  of 
the  soldiers  are  not  unknown.  By  and  by,  when  the 
authorities  get  around  to  it,  proper  tombstones  and  a 
monument  will  be  erected.  General  Wood  has  already 
planned  for  it. 

The  body  of  Hamilton  Fish  has  been  taken  from  Cuba 


since  that  day,  and  brought  North  to  be  interred  at  Gar 
rison's,  New  York.  Captain  Capron  was  buried  on  a 
hillside  near  the  seashore.  His  grave  is  marked  by  a 
neat  tombstone  erected  by  Colonel  (now  Major-General) 
Wood. 

The  men  marched  off,  leaving  their  dead  alone  in  their 
glory  behind  them.  The  strange  new  routine  of  regi 
mental  life  was  taken  up,  and  new  thoughts  and  wonder- 
ings  of  what  the  future  held  for  them  busied  the  minds 

167 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    KOUGH   K1DEKS. 

of  those  who  were  left,  but  after  that  battle,  and  after 
that  burial,  no  man  in  the  regiment  was  quite  the  same. 
The  Rough  Riders  had  passed  through  their  baptism  of 
fire,  and  passed  gloriously,  but  they  had  paid  a  terrible 
price  to  Fate. 


168 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  BEGINNING 
OF  SAN  JUAN. 

I  must  start  by  saying  that  I  did  not  see  any  part  of 
the  three  days'  battle  of  San  Juan,  and  that  what  is 
written  here  is  written  from  what  I  have  been  told  by 
men  who  did,  and  from  what  I  have  read.  I  have  taken 
considerable  trouble  to  see  that  every  statement  is  ac 
curate,  however,  and  am  convinced  that  there  are  few, 
if  any,  mistakes  in  this  account. 

As  every  one  knows,  the  battle  started  on  the  first  day 
of  July.  General  Wheeler  and  General  Young  were 
both  ill,  so  General  Sumner  took  command  of  the  cav 
alry  division,  in  which  the  Hough  Riders  were  in 
cluded,  in  the  Second  Brigade.  This  promoted  Lieu 
tenant-Colonel  Roosevelt  to  the  colonelcy  and  to  com 
mand  of  the  regiment,  for  Colonel  AVood  became  a 
brigadier-general,  and  took  command  of  General  Young's 
brigade. 

The  regiment  had  moved  to  El  Poso  the  previous  day, 
and  wrere  encamped  on  that  picturesque  little  farm  which 
the  Spaniards  had  evacuated.  Nothing  can  describe  the 
filthy  state  in  which  the  retreating  soldiers  had  left  the 
place.  "  If  Cuba  is  unhealthy,  this  is  what  makes  it 
so,"  said  General  Surnner  to  a  foreign  attache.  "  New 
York  City  would  breed  yellow  fever  germs  faster  than  a 
horse  can 'run,  if  it  were  left  in  such  a  state  as  this. 

169 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    ROUGH    RIDERS. 

When  they  eliminate  unnecessary  dirt  from  Cuba  they 
will  eliminate  yellow  fever." 

But  the  fevers  which  began  to  make  many  a  man 
in  the  liough  Riders  ache  and  shiver,  were  not  caused 
by  the  filth.  The  days  were  incredibly  hot  and  the 
nights  were  chilly.  From  the  valleys  on  both  sides  of 
the  hill  where  the  regiment  was  encamped  white  mists 
full  of  the  miasma  of  malaria  rose  every  night  to  fill  the 
air  until  the  next  morning's  sun  dissipated  them,  and 
these  mists  sent  many  men  to  hospital.  They  added 
greatly  to  the  beauty  of  the  situation,  however,  although 
it  is  not  probable  that  the  Rough  Riders  were  as  deeply 
interested  in  that  as  they  were  in  the  quinine  which  was 
scarce  and  which  this  detail  of  the  beauty  made  neces 
sary. 

The  order  to  move  forward  toward  Santiago  along 
the  San  Juan  trail  was  given  the  night  before  to  Colonel 
Roosevelt,  who  had  reveille  sounded  at  three  in  the 
morning,  for  his  troops  were  supposed  to  be  on  their  Avay 
at  four.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  suppressed  excite 
ment  among  the  men.  The  feeling  of  security  that  had 
preceded  the  battle  of  Las  Guasimas  was  replaced  by  a 
feeling  of  wonder  and,  in  some  cases,  apprehension.  The 
general  orders  which  had  been  given  to  their  com 
manders  spread  among  the  men  with  great  rapidity,  al 
though  it  is,  of  course,  the  military  intention  that  such 
things  shall  be  known  only  to  the  men  who  must  of 
necessity  be  confided  in.  There  was  no  longer  any  doubt 
in  the  minds  of  the  Rough  Riders  that  there  were  Span 
iards  in  Cuba  and  that  the  Spaniards  had  guns,  and  that 
the  guns  would  be  loaded  and  fired,  and  that  they  would 

170 


THE   BEGINNING   OF   SAN   JUAN. 

be  fired  for  the  purpose  of  killing  the  soldiers  in  the 
American  army. 

I  do  not  wish  to  give  the  idea  that  the  Hough  Eiders 
were  afraid  the  night  before  San  Juan,  for  I  do  not 
believe  that  this  regiment  could  have  found  any  set  of 
circumstances  which  would  have  made   it,   as  a  body, 
feel  afraid.      But  I  do  mean  that  the  Rough  Riders  had 
learned  to  take  war  seriously.      They  had  only  to  close 
their  eyes  to  see  the  battlefield  of  Las  Guasimas  where 
they  had  so  busily  passed  that  morning  of  the  twenty- 
fourth  of  June.      And  in  the  visions  which  they  thus 
called  to  their  minds  they  saw  it  dotted  with  prostrate 
comrades  who  were  not  lying  down  in  order  to  facilitate 
their  own  aim  at  their  enemies,  but  were  lying  down 
because  they  had  been  hit  by  Spanish  bullets.      They 
could  see  wounded  men  all  bloody  and  they  could  see 
dead  men.      They  knew  that  just  before  the  battle  those 
men  who  were  wounded  and  those  men  who  were  dead 
had  felt  just  as  they  had  felt — had  not  believed  that 
they  would  be  wounded  or  dead.   And  the  Rough  Riders 
who   brought  these   pictures  to   their  eyes  when   they 
closed  them  knew  that  the  next  day  there  was  going  to  be 
another  battle  and  had  every  reason  to  believe  that  after 
it   was   over  there   would   be   a   new   list   of   hurt   and 
killed.      And  they  knew  and  considered  carefully  the 
fact  that  it  was  not  at  all  impossible  that  their  own  names 
should  be  written  on  it.      So  they  wondered  and  gos 
siped  among  themselves  as  to  who  would  be  hit.      And 
instead   of   saying   scornfully,    "Aw,    them    Spaniards 
won't  fight,"  and,  "  Dagoes  can't  shoot,  anyhow,"  they 
polished  up  their  rifles  which  they  had  now  learned  how 

171 


THE    STOKY    OF    THE    ROUGH    KIDEKS. 

to  use,  and  they  did  what  they  could  to  prepare  to  fight- 
ably  and  manfully  against  a  foe  for  whom  they  had 
achieved  a  very  considerable  respect. 

It  would  not  be  right  to  say  that  the  men  were  not 
sorry  to  see  Colonel  Wood  taken  away  from  the  com 
mand  of  the  regiment,  but  that  they  were  all  extremely 
well  pleased  over  Colonel  Roosevelt's  promotion  is  cer 
tain.  And  they  could  feel  that  way  without  hurting 
anyone's  feelings,  for  they  could  congratulate  Colonel 
Wood  on  the  fact  that  he  was  now  a  brigadier-general, 
both  by  word  of  mouth  and  in  their  minds. 

AYhile  they  had  been  learning  to  respect  the  Span 
iards,  they  had  continued  to  lose  their  respect  for  Cu 
bans.  The  Cuban  officers  were  very  largely  responsible 
for  this  themselves,  for  they  kept  up  the  same  policy  of 
boorish  indifference  to  the  comfort  of  the  American 
troops  which  had  distinguished  them  and  surprised  us 
the  night  we  landed  at  Siboney.  And  the  Cuban  sol 
diers  had  shown  a  great  tendency  to  appropriate  the 
property  of  our  soldiers  in  blue.  The  sight  of  American 
blankets  in  the  possession  of  Cubans  who  could  not  ex 
plain  where  they  had  got  them  had  ceased  to  excite  sur 
prise,  and  ugly  stories  were  afloat  among  the  men,  of 
Cuban  vandals  who  had  rifled  the  pockets  and  bodies 
of  the  dead  and  wounded  at  Las  Guasimas.  For  some 
reason  or  other  the  Hough  Eiders,  particularly,  had  con 
ceived  violent  doubts  of  the  courage  of  our  Cuban  allies, 
and  when  it  was  announced  that  General  Chaffee  in  his 
attack  upon  El  Caney  would  be  supported  and  assisted 
by  a  large  body  of  Cuban  troops,  loud  derisive  cries  were 
heard  in  the  camp  of  the  Hough  Txiders.  I  do  not  know 

173 


THE    BEGINNING    OF   SAN   JUAN. 

how  ChafTee's  men  felt  about  it,  nor  how  General 
Chaffee  himself  felt  about  it,  but  I  am  inclined  to  be 
lieve  that  he  had  been  infected  with  the  same  doubts. 
For  he  went  ahead  and  prepared  for  battle  exactly  as  if 
there  were  to  be  no  brave  and  doughty  legions  of  Cuban 
warriors  to  help  him  win,  arid,  later,  he  went  ahead  and 
won  just  as  if  there  had  been  none.  Exactly  as  if  there 
had  been  none,  for  there  were  none.  That  is,  the  Cuban 
troops  were  in  the  position  which  had  been  assigned 
to  them,  but  they  forgot  to  fire  their  guns  and  they 
forgot  to  advance  on  the  enemy.  AY  Inch  indicates 
that  bad  memories,  as  well  as  dirt  and  fever,  are  among 
the  constitutional  misfortunes  of'  this  down-trodden 
race. 

AY  ho  planned  the  position  which  was  given  to  the 
Rough  Riders  on  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  July,  I 
don't  know.  It  indicated  a  strange  disregard  of  the 
safety  of  the  regiment  which  had  already  shown  itself 
to  be  one  of  the  best  fighting  machines  that  a  modern 
army  had  ever  held.  The  regiment  was  halted  in  the 
yard  of  the  El  Poso  farmhouse,  and  then  Grimes's  bat 
tery  was  wheeled  into  position  just  a  little  in  front  of  it. 
Grimes's  battery  had  no  smokeless  powder.  Every  shot 
it  fired  was  followed  by  a  cloud  of  smoke  large  enough 
to  furnish  a  good  target  even  to  such  inaccurate  gunners 
as  the  Spaniards. 

To  the  unthinking  men  in  the  ranks  of  the  Rough 
Riders,  the  presence  of  the  guns  was  a  great  comfort. 
I  have  heard  it  said  by  English  officers  of  eminence,  that 
if  it  were  not  for  the  comfort  which  the  sight  and  sound 
of  big  guns  give  to  the  soldier  armed  with  a  rifle,  and  for 

173 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS. 

the  terror  which  the  sight  and  sound  of  those  same  big 
guns  inspire  in  the  minds  of  the  enemy,  it  would  not  be 
worth  while  to  take  artillery  on  the  field  except  where 
there  were  heavy  fortifications  to  be  reduced  or  a  siege 
to  be  conducted.  For  statistics  show  that  artillery  is  by 
no  means  proportionately  fatal  to  the  enemy  with  small 
arms.  In  other  words,  the  cannon  are  there  for  moral 
effect  while  the  rifles  are  there  for  man-killing  purposes. 
The  same  English  officers  greatly  appreciate  the  moral 
effect,  however,  arid  have  full  belief  in  the  necessity  of 
artillery. 

The  moral  effect  of  Grimes's  battery  was  strong  in  the 
Rough  Riders,  and  filled  the  hearts  of  them  with  glee. 
Grimes's  battery  fired  about  nineteen  shots  before  the 
Spaniards  answered.  AVhen  the  answer  came  it  was 
directed  with  excellent  aim  at  the  cloud  of  smoke  which 
hung  over  and  around  the  American  guns,  and  was, 
itself,  fired  with  smokeless  powder  which  gave  the  Amer 
ican  guns  no  target. 

Our  first  shot  was  fired  while  the  men  were  eating 
breakfast.  They  could  plainly  see  a  Spanish  blockhouse, 
and  when  they  observed  that  either  the  first  or  some 
succeeding  shot  had  struck  this  blockhouse,  they  gath 
ered  in  little  groups  and  they  shouted  wild  western  and 
college  yells  with  the  same  enthusiasm  which  afterwards 
carried  them  up  San  Juan  Hill.  The  rejoicing  of  the 
Rough  Riders  over  this  shot  was  at  the  height  of  its 
intensity  when  the  first  Spanish  shell  was  fired  in  answer. 
They  heard  the  shot  fired  and  then  they  heard  for  the 
first  time  in  their  lives  the  awful  shriek  of  a  shell's 
flight.  They  could  not  see  it,  but  the  growing  sound  of 

174 


THE   BEGINNING   OF   SAN   JUAN. 

its  advance  seemed  to  come  toward  them  so  slowly  that 
they  looked  against  the  sky  eagerly  and  anxiously  as  if 
they  should  see  the  black  ball  in  relief  against  it.  Like 
the  passage  of  a  mammoth  sky-rocket,  hissing  and  howl 
ing  like  a  fiend  of  the  air,  this  first  Spanish  shell  came 
to  freeze  the  grins  on  the  faces  of  the  Rough  Riders  and 
to  stop  midway  their  screams  of  excited  delight  over 
what  our  shells  had  done. 

Then  the  shell  exploded  with  a  report  which  is  not 
like  any  other  report.  And  when  it  exploded,  it  was 
in  the  midst  of  the  Rough  Riders  and,  as  its  smoke 
cleared  away,  it  exposed  to  view  two  dead  men,  and  seven 
wounded  men  with  a  kind  of  wounds  which  was  new  to 
the  regiment.  These  were  not  the  clean-cut  Mauser 
holes  which  had  marked  the  unfortunates  at  Las  Guasi- 
mas.  They  were  great  jagged  rents  torn  into  the  quiver 
ing  flesh  by  rough-edged  fragments  of  broken  steel.  And 
there  was  no  more  laughter.  And  there  were  no  more 
shouts.  AVar  Avas  grim  again.  More  of  their  comrades 
were  lying  dead.  The  second  battle  had  begun.  The 
Spaniards  were  really  shooting  to  kill. 

It  was  the  first  time  and  the  last  time,  during  the  cam 
paign,  that  there  was  anything  like  a  stampede  among 
the  Rough  Riders.  It  was  the  first  time  and  the  last 
time,  during  our  war  with  Spain,  that  they  ever  yielded 
an  inch  to  Spanish  shots  of  any  kind.  But  this  shell 
was  so  unexpected  and  so  dreadful,  that  the  men  did  not 
wait  for  the  word  of  command.  They  ran  scurrying 
away  from  the  position  which  they  had  been  ordered  to 
occupy  over  the  edge  of  the  hill  to  the  right,  where  they 
showed  their  newly  acquired  respect  for  Spanish  gun- 

175 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    EG  UGH    RIDERS. 

nery  by  keeping  cover  until  about  half -past  eight  o'clock. 
The  first  shot  from  the  American  battery  had  been  fired 
at  six-forty,  and  the  Spanish  shell  had  shrieked  its  way 
into  their  midst  at  exactly  seven  o'clock. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Brodie  asks  me  to  mention  Private 
Ilollister,  of  A  Troop.  He  was  one  of  the  men  struck 
by  the  shell  at  El  Poso.  He  was  badly  torn,  but  he 
partially  recovered  from  his  wound,  through  his  pure 
grit.  But  he  recovered  from  his  wound  only  to  die  of 
typhoid  fever. 

While  they  were  at  El  Poso,  a  funny  episode  was  the 
strange  manoeuvre  of  the  First  Cavalry.  It  moved  past 
them  with  great  enthusiasm.  It  had  only  a  discon 
certingly  short  distance  to  go  before  it  struck  the  Span 
ish  outposts,  and  the  Rough  Riders  knew  this.  They 
supposed,  of  course,  that  an  attack  on  the  foe  was  in 
tended  by  the  movement.  Promptly  on  time,  and  exactly 
at  the  place  where  the  Spaniards  were  supposed  to  be,  the 
First  Cavalry  ran  into  them.  The  Rough  Riders  were 
waiting  for  a  battle  royal,  and  more  or  less  expecting 
that  they  would  soon  be  involved  themselves.  But  with 
a  promptness  which  was  only  equal  by  the  rapidity  of 
their  advance,  the  First  Cavalry  retired  again  to  some 
unknown  point,  and  the  night  grew  still  and  peaceful, 
and  the  First  Cavalry  had  marched  up  the  hill,  and  then 
marched  down  again,  as  did  the  King  of  France  in  the 
nursery  rhyme. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  before  they  received  their  orders 
to  go  forward.  They  had  watched  many  regiments  pass 
along  the  trail  before  their  turn  came,  and  they  shared 
the  experiences  of  the  others  when  they  finally  de- 

176 


THE    BEGINNING   OF   SAN   JUAN. 

bouchcd  into  it.  They  found  it  as  the  others  had, 
muddy,  overcrowded,  and  badly  managed.  The  whole 
army  was  moving  forward  in  a  line  not  much  wider  than 
the  one  which  the  Rough  lliders  alone  had  found  so  in 
convenient  when  they  marched  up  to  Guasimas.  I 
mention  this,  because  the  army  had  been  inactive  for 
seven  days,  and  had  had  ample  time  to  prepare  for  that 
advance  by  cutting  new  trails  through  the  jungle,  so 
that  they  could  have  entered  the  field  in  half  a  dozen 


or  a  dozen  places,  instead  of  in  only  one  place,  on  which 
it  would  have  been  madness  on  the  part  of  the  enemy  if 
they  had  not  had  their  guns  trained  for  days.  General 
Chaffec  recognized  this,  and  spoke  of  it.  But  General 
Chaffec  was  not  in  command,  so  the  Rough  Eiders  started 
down  that  trail,  as  other  regiments  started  down  that 
trail,  and  when  ten  o'clock  came  they  entered  the  zone 
of  Spanish  fire  as  other  regiments  had  and  did  enter  the 
Spanish  zone  of  fire  that  day.  And  they  could  not  reply 
any  more  than  others  could  reply.  And  they  were 

179 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    ROUGH    RIDERS. 

wounded  and  killed  helplessly  and  steadily  as  the  men  of 
other  regiments  were. 

And,  with  the  other  troops  who  were  marched  need 
lessly  and  stupidly  into  that  death  trap,  they  suffered 
through  the  madness  which  sent  up  a  military  balloon 
at  a  place  where  the  entire  American  army  in  Cuba  must 
needs  march  under  it  or  near  it,  and  catch  the  terrific  fire 
which  the  Spanish  gunners  of  course  directed  at  so  ad 
mirable  a  target. 

They  were  crossing  a  creek  when  they  first  felt  the 
fire.  The  water  was  about  two  feet  deep,  and  many  men 
were  hit  Avhile  they  were  wading  in  it.  There  was  con 
siderable  danger  that  the  wounded  men  who  fell  in  it 
would  be  drowned  instead  of  dying  pleasantly  of  their 
wounds  as  it  is  intended  that  soldiers  shall  die,  and  the 
men  who  had  first-aid  packages  and  who  were  looking 
after  the  wounded  as  well  as  they  could,  had  their  hands 
very  busily  employed. 

Colonel  Roosevelt  rode  mounted  to  the  right,  and 
Avlicii  he  saw  the  terrible  slaughter  that  the  balloon  was 
bringing  to  the  men  who  followed  the  route  marked 
down  for  them,  he  took  his  men  out  of  it  and  around 
to  the  right  so  that  they  avoided  the  worst  of  it,  perhaps. 
The  regiment  finally  halted  while  it  was  standing  in  the 
creek.  The  men  of  I)  Troop  were  waist  deep  and  more 
in  the  water.  The  Spanish  shells  were  whistling  weirdly 
overhead  and  the  blundering  gas-bag  was  still  there,  as 
if  it  had  been  a  signal  shown  to  let  the  Spaniards  know 
the  position  of  our  men. 

For  half  an  hour  the  Rough  Riders  stood  waiting 
there.  Many  of  them  had  to  keep  their  positions  in  the 

180 


THE   BEGINNING   OF   SAN   JUAN. 

creek,  and  it  is  not  fun  to  stand  for  half  an  hour  in 
water,  with  the  tropical  glare  of  the  Cuban  sun  beating 
down  upon  your  head,  and  its  no  less  stifling  reflection 
beating  up  into  jour  face  and  against  your  body  from 
the  water.  If  you  add  to  these  discomforts  the  con 
tinual  arrival  of  shells  fired  by  hostile  men,  which  ripped 
and  tore  the  life  out  of  your  comrades,  while  you  looked 
inipotently  at  their  suffering  and  wondered  how  long- 
it  might  be  before  you  were  hit  yourself,  you  will  find 
that  happiness  is  far  distant  and  agony  very  near.  Yet 
the  irrepressible  good  spirits  of  the  Rough  Riders  did  not 
desert  them  even  here.  They  would  have  been  very 
much  more  in  evidence  if  the  men  had  been  able  to  shoot 
back — if  the  pleasing  consciousness  that  they  were  giv 
ing  Spain  as  good  as  she  sent  had  been  theirs;  but  still 
they  laughed  and  joked  and  grimly  guyed  each  other. 

Their  next  move  was  to  the  woods — the  front  from 
Avhich  they  later  charged  with  their  gallant  colonel  at 
their  head  and  drove  the  Spaniards  from  San  Juan  Hill. 

This  march  covered  a  distance  which  I  have  heard 
estimated  at  half  a  mile  and  which  I  have  heard  esti 
mated  at  three  miles.  Probably  the  first  figure  is  nearer 
right  than  the  second.  It  is  particularly  surprising  and 
not  especially  pleasing  to  the  writer  of  a  book  like  this 
to  find  that  no  two  men  see  things  alike  in  war  time.  My 
own  remembrance  of  things  I  saw  at  Guasimas  is  as 
different  from  the  remembrance  of  other  men  who  saw 
the  same  things  at  the  same  time  as  the  difference  be 
tween  these  two  estimates  of  distance,  and  the  remem 
brance  of  a  third  man  sets  both  myself  and  the  other 
chap  at  fault.  But  all  writers  of  battle  history  agree 

181 


rrlIE   STORY   OF   THE  HOUGH   EIDERS. 

that  the  most  frequent  errors  of  those  who  see  battles 
are  on  the  side  of  exaggeration.  At  any  rate,  whether 
this  march  was  long  or  short,  everyone  agrees  that  the 
wreather  was  terrifically  hot,  and  that  the  Spanish  fire  was 
hotter.  The  country  was  either  clear  or  covered  with 
low  bushes  which  offered  the  men  no  protection  what 
ever,  and  many  of  them  went  down  here  as  they  had 
gone  down  at  Las  Guasimas.  It  seemed  harder  to  be 
shot  here,  for  not  yet  were  our  men  able  to  fire  a  single 
answering  shot  at  the  Spaniards  who  were  sending  those 
Mausers  singing  into  their  ranks.  So  great  was  the 
execution  done  in  this  short  time,  I  am  told,  that  the 
bandages  of  the  first-aid  men  wrere  wholly  exhausted 
before  the  men  actually  reached  the  front. 

The  Rough  Riders,  through  Colonel  Roosevelt's  own 
good  sense,  and  not  through  any  merit  of  the  orders 
under  which  lie  was  acting,  avoided  the  worst  place  that 
the  American  army  found  that  day.  They  were  not 
among  the  troops  who  poured  through  the  opening  from 
that  fatal  trail  down  which  most  of  our  helpless  men 
went  into  the  plain  where  the  Spaniards  had  studied  out 
the  range  and  only  had  to  send  their  unanswered  bullets 
into  the  mass  of  soldiers  who  were  huddled  there  in  a 
confusion  which  could  have  only  been  avoided  by  not 
sending  them  there  at  all. 

He  took  his  regiment  well  over  to  the  right  to  about 
the  point  in  the  line  which  it  had  been  intended  that 
he  should  occupy,  but  he  did  not  take  them  by  the  route 
which  lie  had  been  instructed  to  follow.  When  he  got 
them  there  he  placed  them  in  the  woods  as  well  as  he 
could.  He  made  his  men  lie  down  while  he  stood  up 

183 


THE   BEGINNING   OF   SAN   JUAN. 

or  rode  around  on  his  horse.  lie  took  every  chance 
there  was,  while  he  allowed  his  men  to  take  as  few  as 
possible.  He  did  many  things  to  add  to  their  love  of  him 
before  they  proved  it  by  following  him  up  the  hill.  But 
he  could  not  give  them  the  one  privilege  which  they 
wanted  more  than  they  wanted  anything  else.  He  could 
not  then  give  them  the  order  to  fire  back  at  the  enemy 
which  was  killing  them  as  pot-hunters  kill  wild  rabbits. 
But  by  and  by  he  gave  them  all  the  chance  they 
wanted. 


183 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  CHARGE 
OF  SAN  JUAN, 

The  middle  of  the  day  had  passed  before  the  men  got 
their  chance.  And  here  it  is  interesting  to  go  over  again 
that  little  list  of  Rough  Rider  records,  which  I  have  al 
ready  mentioned  once  or  twice,  but  which  is  now  getting 
so  long  that  it  deserves  to  be  spoken  of  again. 

The  Rough  Riders  were  the  first  regiment  to  be  organ 
ized  of  all  the  volunteers. 

They  raised  the  first  flag  raised  by  the  United  States 
army  in  Cuba. 

They  fired  the  first  shot  fired  in  anger  by  the  army 
in  Cuba,  and  they  lost  the  first  man  shot  by  the  Span 
iards. 

And  now  comes  the  last  and  best  of  their  record  per 
formances.  They  led  the  army  in  the  charge'  up  San 
Juan  Hill. 

They  lay  there  where  Roosevelt  had  led  them,  still 
taking  the  fire  from  the  Spaniards  and  still  unable  to 
return  it,  that  1st  of  July,  with  as  good  grace  as  any 
troops  could  have  shown  under  such  depressing  and 
disheartening  circumstances.  Every  once  in  a  while 
some  one  among  them  was  shot.  It  was  one  of  the  men 
who  was  wounded  there  who  made  a  remark  as  his  com 
rades  started  away,  which  is  likely  to  go  down  into  the 
history  of  the  utterances  of  wounded  men. 

184 


THE    CHARGE    OF   SAN   JUAN. 

"Scorch,  boys!  Scorch!"  he  said.  "My  tire's 
punctured." 

The  situation  was,  perhaps,  the  most  exasperating 
that  troops  can  be  called  upon  to  endure.  Several  regi 
ments  were  ahead  of  the  Rough  Riders,  among  them  the 
Kinth  Regular  Cavalry.  This  regiment  is  made  up  of 
colored  men.  I  counted  its  lieutenant-colonel — Hamil 
ton — among  my  dearest  friends,  and  was  with  his  regi 
ment  more  than  I  was  with  any  other  during  the  days 
preceding  our  departure  from  Tampa.  I  know  those 
negro  troopers  to  be  brave  men,  and,  indeed,  they  proved 
themselves  to  be  among  the  best  soldiers  in  the  United 
States  army,  later  that  same  day.  Colonel  Hamilton 
was  killed  in  the  charge  up  San  Juan  Hill,  and  his  men 
lost  very  heavily.  They  were  black  heroes,  every  one 
of  them.  But  they  lay  ahead  of  the  Rough  Riders  and 
did  not  attempt  to  go  beyond  their  orders,  which  were 
to  lie  there  and  wait  for  some  one  to  tell  them  from 
General  Shafter  to  go 'ahead.  That  Colonel  Hamilton 
was  as  brave  a  man  as  Colonel  Roosevelt,  and  as  brave  a 
man  as  any  man  ever  was,  I  do  not  doubt  for  a  moment, 
but  his  regular  army  training  did  not  stand  him  in  good 
stead  that  day.  He  had  been  a  soldier  all  his  life  and 
he  did  what  a  soldier  is  supposed  to  do — he  did  what  he 
was  told  to  do.  He  had  been  told  to  wait.  Colonel 
Roosevelt  understood  the  necessity  of  obeying  orders  as 
well  as  Hamilton  did,  but  Colonel  Roosevelt  had  not 
been  turned  into  a  fighting  machine  by  years  of  disci 
pline,  and  he  thought  for  himself  when  his  superior  offi 
cers  failed  to  think  for  him.  Colonel  Hamilton  did  not. 
So  Colonel  Roosevelt  was  the  hero  of  San  Juan  Hill, 

185 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    ROUGH    RIDERS. 

although  the  opportunity  for  heroism  had  been  before 
Colonel  Hamilton  just  as  long  as  it  had  been  before 
Colonel  Roosevelt.  Hamilton,  doubtless,  saw  the  neces 
sity  for  the  charge  as  soon  as  Roosevelt  did,  but  he 
waited  for  some  superior  to  see  it  too.  Roosevelt  waited 
a  reasonable  time  for  his  superiors  to  see  it,  and  then  he 
went  ahead  on  his  own  hook. 

I  did  not  see  Colonel  Roosevelt  that  day,  of  course, 
for  I  was  lying  wounded  out  on  the  hospital  ship  "  Oliv 
ette  "  off  Siboney.  But  I  can  call  to  my  mind  a  picture 
of  him  which  I  know  is  accurate. 

His  face  was  streaming  with  perspiration  and  streaked 
with  honest  dirt.  His  famous  teeth  were  prominent  and 
bared  constantly  by  those  nervous  twitchings  of  his  face 
which  always  accompany  whatever  he  says.  They  were, 
probably,  very  often  and  very  grimly  closed  that  day— 
those  teeth — and  it  is  certain  that  in  the  excitement  of 
it  all  he  bit  his  words  off  with  more  abruptness  and  de 
termination  than  he  usually  docs.  And  that  is  saying 
much.  For  Roosevelt  always  talks  as  if  he  were  trying  to 
give  each  word  a  farewell  bite  before  it  leaves  his  mouth, 
and  ends  it  suddenly  with  snap.  His  hair  hung  in  wet 
wisps  down  his  forehead.  Most  of  the  officers  in  Cuba 
had  their  hair  cut  as  short  as  possible.  Roosevelt  wore 
his  a  little  longer  than  usual.  He  had  on  no  jacket,  and 
his  shirt  was  soaked  with  sweat.  He  did  not  wear  cav 
alry  boots,  but  had  on  russet  shoes  which  had  wholly 
taken  on  the  color  of  the  Cuban  mud,  and  ordinary  cav 
alry  leggings  such  as  are  served  out  to  the  troops  at 
thirty-one  cents  a  pair.  His  riding  breeches  were  of 
khaki,  which,  when  it  is  clean,  is  a  pretty  soft  brown. 

186 


THE   CHARGE   OF   SAN   JUAN. 

But  his  were  not  clean.  They  were  wet  and  they  were 
covered  with  great  spots  of  Cuban  mud  and  other  dirt. 
It  is  unlikely  that  he  had  taken  them  off  the  night  be 
fore  at  all.  But  they  were  no  dirtier  than  his  campaign 
hat,  which  was  full  of  holes  cut  by  an  obliging  trooper 
for  the  ventilation  of  the  colonel's  head.  From  the  back 
of  it  a  blue  bandana  handkerchief  with  white  spots  hung 
down  to  shield  his  neck  from  sun.  This  the  colonel  al 
ways  wore  on  his  hat  after  the  first  battle,  where  he  had 
it  tied  around  his  neck.  It  was  the  battle  flag  of  San 
Juan,  and  I  doubt  if  any  man  who  was  at  San  Juan  Hill 
will  ever  be  able  to  see  one  like  it  without  wanting  to 
cheer.  Roosevelt  had  sewed  his  shoulder  straps  to  his 
shirt,  but  one  of  them  had  come  off  and  the  other  hung 
loosely  flopping  at  one  end  in  imminent  danger  of  being 
lost  as  the  colonel's  wiry  shoulder  jerked  nervously. 

I  know  just  how  he  stood^  there  as  he  turned  to  his 
men  and  shouted,  "  We'll  have  to  take  that  hill,"  and 
how  they  shouted  it  back  along  the  line,  "  We'll  have  to 
take  that  hill,"  and  everyone  took  the  colonel's  words  up 
and  cried,  "  We'll  have  to  take  that  hill." 

And  then  they  took  it. 

In  front  of  Colonel  Roosevelt's  command,  as  I  have 
said,  was  the  Ninth  Cavalry.  Hamilton  did  not  move 
them.  Roosevelt,  finding  them  in  his  way,  shouted: 

"  If  you're  not  going  up,  get  out  of  my  way,  for  I  am." 

They  made  no  signs  of  advancing,  so  he  mounted  and 
rushed  into  their  rear,  shouting  to  them  to  make  way 
for  the  Rough  Riders.  The  surprised  darkies  did  not 
know  what  to  make  of  this  unexpected  whirlwind  which 
was  pushing  and  shoving  its  way  through  them,  but  they 

187 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

parted  and  let  it  pass.  After  it  had  gone  by,  the  colored 
men  fell  in  with  their  officers  at  their  head  and  were 
the  second  regiment  up  the  hill.  Hamilton  was  killed 
in  the  charge.  The  officers  of  the  Ninth  felt,  at  first,  a 
little  chagrined  at  what  Roosevelt  had  done,  and  were 
inclined  to  criticise  him  for  it,  but  this  feeling  soon  gave 
way  to  one  of  honest  and  outspoken  admiration  for  the 
man  who  had  had  the  nerve  to  set  military  rules  at  defi 
ance  and  whip  the  enemy  in  spite  of  his  own  superior 
officers.  With  the  Ninth  went  two  companies  of  the 
Seventy-first  New  York,  a  regiment  of  gallant  men  who 
have  been  criticised  as  the  men  in  the  ranks  really  do  not 
deserve  to  be  criticised,  because  some  of  their  officers 
flunked. 

Roosevelt  went  mounted,  waving  his  sword  in  the  air. 
I  fancy  he  looked  a  good  deal  more  like  the  pictures  of 
fighting  men  charging,  than  officers  very  often  do.  lie 
must  have  made  the  kind  of  a  sight  that  would  have 
delighted  the  eyes  of  any  of  the  famous  painters  of  battle 
scenes.  If  Detaille  or  Meissonier  could  have  seen  him 
they  would  probably  have  felt  that  they  had  seen  the 
one  thing  that  they  had  been  longing  all  their  lives  to 
see. 

The  ground  was  uneven  and  he  had  to  pay  some  atten 
tion  to  his  horse,  which  slipped  and  stumbled  several 
times  before  he  reached  the  barbed-wire  fence  which,  at 
last,  forced  the  colonel  to  abandon  him.  Roosevelt 
would  have  preferred  to  go  up  that  hill  on  foot  instead 
of  riding  up  on  his  horse,  for  several  reasons.  Chief  of 
these  is  the  fact  that  he  was  the  only  mounted  man  on 
the  whole  field,  and  was,  therefore,  a  bright  and  shining 

188 


THE   CHARGE   OF   SAN   JUAN. 

mark  for  Spanish  bullets.  Now  no  man  likes  to  take 
an  unnecessary  risk,  no  matter  how  willing  he  may  be  to 
expose  himself  to  such  danger  as  legitimately  belongs  to 
him  in  the  course  of  duty.  It  is  not  likely  that  Colonel 
Roosevelt  enjoyed  the  realization  that  he  was  the  very 
biggest  target  on  the  whole  field  of  battle  for  Spanish 
bullets  to  be  aimed  at.  Nor  was  it  at  all  pleasant  to 
have  to  watch  his  horse's  steps  and  urge  him  and  en 
courage  him  when  he  wanted  to  look  around,  as  he  could 
have  looked  around  if  he  had  been  walking  instead  of 
riding,  to  see  how  his  men  were  acting  and  whether  they 
were  following  him  as  rapidly  and  as  closely  as  he  could 
have  wished.  But  Roosevelt  has  always  been  known  as 
a  man  of  lightning  thought,  and  before  he  mounted  at  all 
that  day,  he  realized  in  a  flash  that  a  leader  on  horseback, 
brandishing  his  sword  and  going  like  the  devil  up  that 
hill,  would  be  easier  for  the  men  to  follow,  and  more 
inspiring  to  them,  than  a  leader  walking,  who  could 
only  go  as  fast  as  they  could,  and  who  would  very  likely 
be  so  winded  by  the  physical  exertion  of  climbing  that 
he  would  be  unable  to  shout  his  orders  so  that  they  could 
be  heard. 

It  has  been  said  that  Roosevelt's  horse  was  shot  under 
him  that  day.  This  is  a  mistake.  Several  officers'  horses 
were  shot  while  their  owners  were  mounted  on  them 
before  the  day  was  over,  but  Roosevelt's  was  not  one  of 
these.  The  animal  was  hit  by  a  piece  of  a  shell,  but  the 
wound  was  very  slight.  He  is  now  enjoying  well-earned 
rest  and  pampered  luxury  in  the  colonel's  stables  at 
Oyster  Bay,  Long  Island. 

The  barbed-wire  fence  was  a  bad  place.  It  stopped 
191 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH    RIDERS. 


Colonel  Roosevelt  and  it  stopped  the  men  who  were  com 
ing  after  him.  Before  that  they  had  straggled  along 
separately  and  slowly.  They  could  not  dash.  The  hill 
was  too  rough,  and  they  were  too  tired,  and  the  weather 
was  too  hot  for  them  to  make  a  wild  rush  and  get  there 
quick.  They  went  up  slowly  and  laboriously.  It  was 
mighty  hard  work — it  would  have  been  mighty  hard 


even  if  the  men  at  the  top  of  the 
hill  in  the  trenches  had  not  been 
pouring  steel  death  messengers 
down  at  them  with  desperate 
earnestness.  The  ascent  they 
were  making  was  not  military. 
They  had  no  right,  according  to 

the  ideas  of  tacticians,  to  go  up  that  hill  as  they  did, 
so  long  as  they  were  not  backed  up  by  artillery.  But 
they  struggled  along  without  any  military  formation 
until  they  reached  this  barbed-wire  fence.  The  first  men 
who  had  wire  nippers  cut  it  as  quickly  as  they  could, 
but  the  pause  had  been  long  enough  to  allow  other  men 
to  come  up,  until  they  were  bunched  there,  and  this 
offered  the  Spaniards  a  better  chance  for  shooting  than 

192 


THE   CHARGE   OF   SAN   JUAN. 

they  had  had  before.  They  took  advantage  of  it.  There 
were  as  many  men  of  our  regiment  hit  in  that  huddle 
there  as  were  hit  in  all  the  places  else  on  the  hill  put 
together. 

As  soon  as  Roosevelt,  now  dismounted,  had  passed  the 
barbed-wire  fence  he  said  the  only  harsh  thing  which 
he  said  to  his  men  during  the  entire  campaign.  He 
turned  around  and  shouted  back  at  the  crowd  who  were 
toiling  along  after  him: 

"  If  any  man  runs  I'll  shoot  him  myself." 

It  hurt  the  men  to  hear  him  say  such  a  thing,  for 
there  was  no  one  there  who  had  the  slightest  thought 
of  running.  They  felt  better  a  moment  after  when  he 
added,  tactfully: 

"  And  I  won't  have  to  shoot  any  of  iny  own  men 
either,"  but  he  was  sorry  he  had  said  anything  of  the 
kind,  and  they  were  sorry  they  had  heard  him,  although 
they  all  realized  that  when  a  man  is  laboring  under  such 
excitement  as  Roosevelt  was  at  that  moment,  it  is  im 
possible  for  him  to  pick  and  choose  his  words  as  he  would 
if  he  were  in  a  drawing-room,  or  even  in  a  military  camp. 
At  any  rate,  of  course,  no  one  ran  and  so  Roosevelt  did 
not  have  to  shoot  anybody. 

Perhaps  it  is  not  quite  accurate  for  me  to  call  this  part 
of  the  battle  the  "  Charge  up  San  Juan  Hill,"  for  this 
hill  was  not  properly  a  part  of  San  Juan  Hill.  It  was  a 
little  preceding  hill,  and  between  it  and  San  Juan  Hill 
proper  was  a  slight  depression  containing  a  shallow  pond 
of  water.  At  the  top  of  this  first  hill  were  some  large 
sugar  kettles,  so  the  regiment  named  it  "  Kettle  Hill," 
so  that  in  speaking  of  it  they  could  differentiate  between 
13  193 


THE  STOKY  OF  THE  KOUGH  EIDERS. 

it  and  San  Juan  Hill.  Here  the  Bough  Eiders  put  in 
what  was,  by  all  odds,  the  hardest  part  of  their  fighting, 
and  lost  far  more  men  than  they  did  after  they  began  to 
ascend  the  eminence  after  which  the  battle  is  named. 
The  bullets  flew  like  bees  around  those  kettles  and  like 
bees  they  were  very  busy.  But  they  were  not  gathering 
honey.  They  wrere  spilling  blood.  Not  less  than  a 
dozen  of  the  Hough  Eiders  went  down  here,  and  several 
were  killed  outright.  It  is  said  that  the  fire  slacked 
up  slightly  after  our  men  reached  the  top  of  this  first 
hill,  and  that  the  Spaniards  began  to  evacuate  their  main 
trenches  without  waiting  for  us  to  come  farther, 
could  easily  devote  a  chapter  to  the  little  incidents  which 
happened  at  this  very  part  of  the  charge.  But  I  will 
limit  myself  to  one. 

Captain  "  Bucky  "  O'Neill  was  killed.  He  had  led 
his  troop  with  great  gallantry  so  far.  It  will  be  remem 
bered  that  he  was  the  Bough  Eider  who  so  bravely 
risked  his  life  at  Daiquiri  in  an  effort  to  save  the  drown 
ing  troopers  of  the  Tenth  Cavalry,  who  had  fallen  off 
the  skeleton  pier. 

O'Neill's  death  was  thus  described  by  his  first  ser 
geant. 

"  O'Neill  directed  us  to  march  at  intervals  of  twelve 
feet. 

"  l  There  will  be  fewer  of  you  hurt.' 

"  We  went  north  and  then  down  into  the  sunken 
road.  It  was  terrible  hot  down  there,  but  it  was  much 
worse  when  we  got  in  the  open  field.  Bullets  from 
the  blockhouse  and  from  the  trenches  swept  down  upon 
us  constantly.  We  came  to  a  barbed-wire  fence;  it 

194 


THE   CHARGE   OF   SAN   JUAN. 

looked  as  if  it  were  going  to  stop  us,  because  for  some 
reason  none  of  us  who  reached  it  first  had  wire  nippers, 
but  we  beat  it  down  with  the  butts  of  our  carbines,  and 
scrambled  oATer  the  prostrate  wires. 

"  Then  we  lay  down  and  fired,  but  O'Neill  stood  up 
straight,  and  told  us  not  to  get  rattled,  but  to  fire  steady, 
and  kill  a  Spaniard  every  time  wTe  shot.  Then  we  made 
a  rush.  Troop  K  came  up  behind  us,  and  we  lay  down 
again  to  fire,  but  O'Xeill  walked  cheerfully  up  and 
down  the  line  talking  to  us.  Lieutenant  Kane  cried  out : 
' '  Get  down,  O'Neill.  There's  no  use  exposing  your 
self  in  that  way.' 

"  O'Neill  turned  and  laughed,  and  said : 

'  Aw-w !     The  Spanish  bullet  has  not  been  moulded 
that  can  hit  me !  ' 

"  And  then  one  hit  him  in  the  mouth  and  killed  him." 

Eoosevelt  led  his  men  down  the  little  descent  at  the 
other  side  of  Kettle  Hill,  still  waving  his  sabre  and  shout 
ing  encouragingly  at  them.  Just  as  they  approached 
the  edge  of  the  little  pond  something — either  a  bullet 
or  a  piece  of  shell — struck  him  on  the  back  of  the  hand 
and  made  a  slight  wound.  That  moment  Roosevelt  was 
the  happiest  man  in  Cuba.  He  was  mighty  glad  of  the 
wound  and,  incidentally,  probably,  mighty  glad  that  it 
was  no  worse. 

He  waved  his  hand  proudly  in  the  air  so  that  the  men 
who  were  near  enough  to  him  could  see  the  blood,  and 
shouted: 

"  I've  got  it,  boys !     I've  got  it !  " 

Then  he  turned  to  a  wounded  man  who  was  not  far 
away,  and  cried,  laughingly: 

195 


THE   STOKY    OF   THE   BOUGH    EIDERS. 

"  You  needn't  be  so  damned  proud." 

Through  the  water  of  the  pond  he  waded  Avith  great 
strides.  Once  he  stumbled  and  almost  fell,  but  recov 
ered  himself  quickly  and  kept  on.  By  this  time  the 
inspiration  of  the  Rough  Riders'  charge  had  infected  the 
whole  army,  and  half  a  dozen  regiments  Avere  springing 
forward  all  along  the  line.  The  Spaniards  saAV  this  and 
were  frightened.  There  Avas  never,  for  a  moment,  any 
doubt  as  to  the  ultimate  outcome  of  the  fight,  for  the 
Americans  greatly  outnumbered  their  adversaries;  but 
there  probably  Avas  never  a  place  where  in  so  short  a  time 
so  many  bullets  Avere  fired  at  so  few  men,  as  Avere  poured 
down  at  the  Rough  Riders  during  their  charge.  But 
they  never  flinched.  I  have  been  told  by  a  Spanish 
officer  that  the  Spaniards  Avere  so  lost  in  their  surprise 
that  they  forgot  to  fire,  but  if  any  forgot  to  fire  AVC  did 
not  miss  their  bullets.  Our  men  were  able  to  get  along 
without  them.  The  whole  thing,  however,  seemed  in 
credible.  By  this  time  the  men  had  separated  again  as 
they  were  at  first,  and  each  man  Avas  picking  his  own 
route  without  making  any  pretence  at  keeping  alignment 
or  doing  anything  but  get  up  that  hill,  firing  a  shot  oc 
casionally  when  he  felt  that  lie  could  afford  the  time  to 
stop  and  shoot,  which  was  not  often. 

The  work  Avas  slow — painfully  slow.  By  this  time 
the  combination  of  heat,  exertion,  and  excitement  had 
made  the  men  feel  as  if  they  had  already  done  a  pretty 
hard  day's  work.  They  struggled  and  puffed.  Once 
in  a  while  one  of  them  would  "  get  it."  The  effect  of 
the  bullets  on  that  upward  slope  was  curious.  Some 
times — when  a  man  was  hit  in  an  outstretched  arm,  for 

196 


THE    CHARGE    OF   SAN   JUAN. 

instance,  or  in  the  extreme  outer  shoulder,  he  would 
whirl  part  of  the  way  around  before  he  fell.  But  fall 
he  would,  and  since  I  have  seen  men  fall  with  Mauser 
bullets  in  them,  I  shall  never  feel  that  anyone  else  I  see 
go  down  really  does  the  task  completely.  The  shock 
of  such  tremendously  high-speed  projectiles  seems  to 
completely  paralyze  the  motor  nerves — the  nerves  which 
transmit  the  impulse  of  contraction  and  expansion  from 
the  brain  to  the  muscles — and  thus  every  muscle  be 
comes  instantaneously  and  completely  limp.  The  men 
went  down,  literally,  like  wet  rags.  Some  of  them  re 
gained  their  control  over  their  muscles  almost  at  once, 
and  got  up  again,  either  to  go  on  toward  those  spitting 
rifle-pits  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  or  else  to  drop  back  again 
to  the  ground  from  the  pain  of  their  wounds.  Xot  one 
wounded  man,  so  many  people  who  were  there  have  told 
me,  even  in  his  agonies,  tried  to  walk  or  crawl  back  to 
wards  the  rear. 

The  men  took  their  wounds  as  cheerfully  at  San  Juan 
as  they  had  taken  them  at  Guasimas.  I  have  talked 
with  the  two  first-aid  men  who  probably  did  more  work 
among  the  Rough  Eiders  that  day  than  any  others,  and 
they  tell  me  the  same  story  of  "  no  complaints  "  from 
the  wounded.  Xever  in  any  battle  in  any  land  could 
the  men  involved  have  shown  a  more  admirable  spirit. 
Xever  could  they  have  shown  an  eye  more  single  to  the 
accomplishment  of  their  duty  and  more  blind  to  their 
own  pains  and  hardships. 

Up,  up,  up,  they  went — slowly,  painfully,  straining 
every  nerve,  cracking  every  muscle.  The  sun  beat  on 
their  heads  and  made  them  faint,  but  valor  beat  in  their 

197 


THE    STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

hearts  and  made  them  strong.  It  may  be  because  I  had 
been  with  the  Rough  Riders  when  I  met  my  own  disaster 
that  I  feel  so  strongly  on  the  subject,  but  it  seems  to  me 
this  moment  as  if  I  would  rather  have  seen  that  regiment, 
crawling  like  warlike  ants  up  that  hill  from  which  the 
little  deadly  spikes  of  fire  were  sending  death  at  them, 
than  to  have  seen  any  other  sight  in  all  the  world. 

John  Foster,  of  B  Troop,  was  the  only  American 
soldier  who  came  near  enough  to  the  Spaniards  to  make 
a  hand-to-hand  fight  necessary.  He  killed  one  with 
the  butt  of  his  rifle. 

The  trenches  at  the  top  of  the  hill  were  literally  full 
of  dead  enemies.  They  had  had  all  the  advantages  of 
position  and  intrenchments,  but,  notwithstanding  reports 
to  the  contrary,  they  were  greatly  outnumbered,  and 
knew  from  the  beginning  when  they  saw  our  men  start 
ing  in  swarms  out  of  the  woods  that  the  battle  could  have 
only  one  result.  It  does  not  detract  from,  but  rather 
adds,  to  the  glory  of  the  fighting  done  by  our  men  to  give 
the  devil  his  due,  and  say  that  the  soldiers  of  Spain 
showed  a  dogged  courage  and  grim  determination  to  kill 
as  many  Yankees  as  they  could  as  they  hopelessly  fired, 
fired,  fired,  from  their  trenches  up  there — a  bravery 
which  was  only  exceeded  in  its  glory  by  the  dogged  per 
sistence  of  our  own  men  who  went  up  against  them. 

The  objective  point  of  Roosevelt's  charge  was  a  block 
house.  Its  nasty  little  loopholes  had  been  spitting  fire 
at  him  and  killing  his  men  during  the  entire  weary, 
dreadful  climb.  There  were  five  troopers  with  him 
when  he  reached  it.  Most  of  the  Spaniards  who  had 
occupied  it  had  been  killed.  All  of  the  others,  except 

198 


THE   CHARGE   OF   SAN   JUAN. 

one,  had  run  over  to  the  right  when  they  saw  our  men 
getting  so  near  that  hope  was  gone.  But  this  one  Span 
iard  stayed  where  he  was,  and  with  a  grim,  set  face,  con 
tinued  to  fire.  Some  one  called  on  him  to  surrender. 
He  answered  with  another  shot.  Roosevelt's  revolver 
was  in  his  hand.  He  raised  it  with  deliberate  aim  and 
killed  the  Spaniard.  Afterwards  he  said  that  he  was 
sorry  the  man  had  not  been  an  American. 

"  It  was  a  pity  to  kill  so  brave  a  man  as  he,"  he  said. 

But  the  work  was  not  over.  On  the  next  hill  of  the 
little  chain,  over  to  the  right,  the  Spaniards  who  had  run 
away  from  the  one  which  Roosevelt  now  held,  were  with 
the  men  who  had  been  there  all  the  time  in  the  trenches. 
They  must  be  driven  back.  A  little  conference  was 
held,  and  Roosevelt  said  he  would  take  that  hill  too. 
It  was  agreed  that  this  further  advance  could  only  be 
made  at  the  expense  of  many  lives,  and  there  were  those 
among  our  officers  who  did  not  think  the  game  was  worth 
the  candle.  Roosevelt  was  not  a  half-way  soldier  any 
more  than  he  had  been  a  half-way  police  commissioner, 
or  any  more  than  he  is  now  a  half-way  governor.  He 
made  up  his  mind  to  finish  the  job  he  had  so  well  begun, 
and  turned  to  the  men  who  were  around  him. 

"  Who'll  follow  me?  "  he  demanded. 

"With  that  he  jumped  out.  For  a  moment  it  looked 
as  if  the  Rough  Riders  might  have  had  enough,  for  only 
five  men  sprang  in  behind  him.  Three  of  these  fell  at 
once.  Roosevelt  stood  there  with  but  two  living  fol 
lowers.  He  went  back. 

"  I  thought  you  would  follow  me,"  he  said,  terribly 
grieved. 

199 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    ROUGH   RIDERS. 

"  We'll  follow  you  to  hell,"  someone  cried  out.  "  We 
didn't  hear  you,  colonel." 

He  sprang  out  once  more  and  there  were  three  hun 
dred  men  behind  him  this  time. 

The  spirit  of  the  Spaniards  was  gone.  The  terrible 
Americans  were  after  them  again.  The  task  was  not  a 
hard  one.  They  fled  in  terror. 

And  Roosevelt  and  his  men  were  on  the  position 
which  they  occupied  until  the  end  of  the  fighting. 


200 


CHAPTER  XL 
THE  MEN  WHO  DIED. 

There  are  few  men  in  William  O'Neill's  troop  whose 
eyes  do  not  fill  when  they  think  of  him.  O'Neill  was 
the  biggest,  handsomest,  laziest  officer  in  the  regiment. 
His  good-nature  knew  no  bounds.  He  tried  to  keep  up 
a  strict  military  discipline  among  his  men,  but  they  did 
more  to  keep  it  up  than  he  did,  simply  because  they  knew 
he  wanted  them  to,  and  because  they  knew  that  he  would 
never  be  harsh  enough  to  them  to  demand  it.  They  had 
the  greatest  desire  to  make  his  troop  the  model  troop  of 
the  regiment,  and  despite  the  free  and  easy,  open-hearted 
way  in  which  O'Neill  commanded  it,  it  was  certainly  one 
of  the  best.  He  was  always  known  as  "  Bucky." 

No  man  had  ever  felt  more  certain  that  he  would  not 
be  killed,  or  even  hurt  in  battle,  than  O'Neill  did.  Ken 
neth  Harris,  who  was  O'Neill's  bunk-mate,  says  that  the 
captain  had  decided  to  remain  in  Cuba  after  the  war  was 
over.  Poor  captain !  he  did  remain  in  Cuba,  but  not  in 
the  way  he  intended  to. 

No  man  could  have  been  more  unselfish  than  O'Neill 
was.  He  did  everything  for  his  men  and  very  little 
for  himself.  He  rather  hated  to  have  them  salute  him 
than  otherwise.  He  always  dreaded  the  possibility  of 
taking  advantage  of  his  rank. 

Nothing  could  have  been  finer  than  the  way  he 
203 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   HOUGH   RIDERS. 

jumped  off  the  skeleton  pier  at  Daiquiri  in  his  efforts 
to  save  the  drowning  troopers.  lie  risked  his  life  with 
out  a  second's  hesitation,  and  laughed  about  it  after 
wards,  lie  was  always  saying  that  nobody  could  kill 
him,  and  said  that  he  couldn't  drown  any  more  than  he 
could  die  by  Spanish  bullets.  lie  didn't  drown. 

When  wre  got  to  Siboney,  on  that  never-to-be-forgotten 
night  of  June  23d,  it  rained,  as  I  have  already  said  in 
another  chapter.  All  the  men  were  tired.  The  cook 
of  O'Neill's  troop  was  especially  worn  out,  and 
Bucky  seeing  it,  went  up  to  him  and  told  him  that  he 
didn't  want  any  supper,  and  should  not  eat  it  if  he 
cooked  it. 

"  Why?  "  asked  the  amazed  trooper. 

"  It's  a  damn  shame  to  ask  you  to  cook,"  said  Bucky; 
"  you're  too  tired." 

Captain  Bucky  O'Neill  had  the  best  supper  in  Cuba 
that  night. 

Later,  after  he  had  lain  down  with  Harris  under  their 
dog  tent,  he  went  somewhere,  and  dragged  out  a  canvas 
Avagon  cover.  It  was  raining  pitchforks,  and  Harris' 
bedding  was  soaked.  Harris  protested  at  O'Neill's  us 
ing  the  few  moments  of  possible  sleep  in  this  way. 
O'Neill  arranged  the  wagon  cover  so  that  it  kept  Harris 
perfectly  dry,  and  replied: 

"  Don't  imagine  that  I  do  it  on  your  account,  you 
irritable  brute,  and  stop  swearing  or  I'll  put  you 
under  arrest.  I  want  to  keep  the  bedding  dry,  that's 
all." 

Then  he  disappeared  again.  When  he  returned  he 
shoved  something  like  a  pillow  under  Harris's  head.  It 

204 


THE    MEN    WHO    DIED. 

was,  probably,  a  small  cushion  from  one  of  the  naval 
launches.  Harris  kicked  again,  and  Bucky  said: 

"  Shut  up,  you  incorrigible  scoundrel.  I've  got  one 
myself.  Now  go  to  sleep." 

Harris  reached  over  in  the  dark,  and  felt  a  coiled  car 
tridge  belt  and  a  canteen  under  O'Neill's  head. 

It  is  said  that  he  was  known  as  "  Bucky  "  because 
there  never  was  a  game  so  hard  that  he  would  hesitate 
to  "  buck  up  '•'  against  it. 

Bucky  combined  his  gambling  propensities  and  his 
patriotism  one  day  in  a  remark  which  will,  probably,  go 
down  into  history.  Some  one  was  saying  that  the  Span 
iards  greatly  outnumbered  us,  and  that  it  was  a  terrible 
gamble  to  send  our  troops  into  the  fever-stricken  country 
against  them. 

"  Is  it?  "  said  Bucky.  "  AYho  would  not  gamble  for 
a  new  star  in  the  flag?  " 

But  Bucky 's  belief  in  his  own  luck  was  serene  and 
unchangeable.  He  had  so  many  times  escaped  death 
at  the  hands  of  border  ruffians,  that  it  was  perfectly 
natural  for  him  to  stand  up  while  others  were  lying  down 
at  San  Juan,  and  to  shoot  when  they  called  upon  him  to 
take  cover. 

"  The  Spanish  bullet  has  not  been  moulded  that  can 
kill  me." 

Then  it  was,  as  I  have  said  before,  that  a  Spanish 
bullet,  which  had  been  moulded,  struck  him  in  the 
mouth  and  killed  him. 

He  was  born  in  St.  Louis  in  1860.  He  was  graduated 
from  the  National  Law  School  at  Washington.  He 
wanted  to  go  into  the  army,  and  was  appointed  a  pay- 

205 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   liOUGII   RIDERS. 

master,  but  his  commission  did  not  come  along  soon 
enough  to  suit  his  impatient  nature,  and  he  went  to 
Arizona,  lie  became  a  successful  newspaper  man,  con 
ducting  the  Arizona  Miner,  the  Phosnix  Herald,  and 
Hoof  and  Horn,  with  profit,  lie  gave  up  journalism 
when  he  was  elected  judge  of  Yavapai  County.  He 
served  three  terms  as  sheriff  of  this  county,  and  was 
known  as  its  best  armed  man,  and  readiest  shot.  At  this 
period  he  was  Bret  Harte's  ideal  of  Western  desperado. 
~No  matter  how  hopeless  the  circumstances  might  be,  he 
never  permitted  his  voice  to  rise  above  a  quiet  drawl, 
and  his  cairn  blue  eyes  showed  never  a  suggestion  of 
excitement.  He  was  the  kind  of  man  who  might  shoot 
another  if  it  seemed  at  all  advisable,  but  if  he  had  ever 
been  called  upon  to  do  it  he  would  have  done  it  coolly 
and  with  perfect  courtesy.  u  I  beg  your  pardon,  but 
I've  got  to  kill  you,77  might  very  well  have  been  his 
formula. 

Three  times  he  was  a  Congressional  candidate,  but  he 
was  always  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  political  fence  and 
was  always  badly  beaten.  Finally  he  was  elected  Mayor 
of  Prescott.  When  they  came  to  count  up  the  votes, 
they  found  that  his  rival  had  received  only  one. 

O'Neill  afterwards  admitted  that  he  had  cast  that 
himself. 

"  I  could  see/7  said  he,  "  that  the  poor  fellow  was  going 
to  feel  right  bad  if  he  didn't  get  any  vote  at  all.77 

When  the  wrar  broke  out,  he  got  his  troop  together 
so  quickly  that  President  McKinley  sent  him  a  personal 
letter  of  thanks. 

He  left  a  charming  wife  behind  him,  and  during  the 
206 


THE   MEN    WHO   DIED. 

days  before  his  death,  while  the  men  were  lying  in  the 
trenches,  cut  off  from  mail  communications  with  any 
where,  he  wrote  to  her  every  day. 

"  I  never  failed  to  yet  when  I  was  away  from  home," 
he  said,  u  and  while  I  feel  pretty  certain  that  she'll  never 
get  the  letters,  I'm  going  to  write  'em  just  the  same." 

So  much  has  been  written  about  Hamilton  Fish  that, 
perhaps,  I  have  no  right  to  devote  much  space  to  the 
death  of  this  brave  young  Xew  Yorker  here.  Fish  always 
craved  excitement  and  always  managed  to  get  it  in  some 
way,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  sought  it,  particularly 
when  he  was  at  home  in  j^ew  York  City,  was  sometimes 
criticised.  But  no  one  ever  said,  in  my  hearing,  that 
"  Ham  "  Fish  was  ever  worse  than  thoughtless  and  im 
pulsive.  He  harmed  no  one  but  himself,  and  was  the 
idol  of  his  acquaintances.  He  made  an  ideal  soldier, 
and  went  to  his  death  with  cool  and  cheerful  heroism. 

He  was  one  of  the  few  men  I  have  ever  known  of  who 
expected  to  be  killed  before  they  entered  their  fatal  bat 
tles.  Fish  felt  perfectly  certain  that  he  was  going  to 
die.  The  morning  of  the  fight  he  insisted  on  having  an 
especially  good  breakfast,  because  he  said  that  it  would 
be  his  last  breakfast.  He  had  toted  a  can  of  tomatoes 
all  the  way  from  Daiquiri  to  Siboney,  and  his  bunkie 
was  inclined  to  be  economical  in  the  eating  thereof. 

"  Oh,  let's  have  some  more,"  said  Fish,  "  it's  my  last 
breakfast." 

He  was  transferred  to  L  Troop  the  night  before  the 
regiment  sailed  from  Tampa  because  he  wanted  to  fight 
under  Captain  Capron.  They  were  not  twenty  feet 
apart  \vhen  they  were  shot.  Capron  made  him  sergeant 

207 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS. 

of  the  squad  from  Muskogee,  Indian  Territory.  Those 
fellows  loved  him. 

Mason  Mitchell  paid  a  pretty  tribute  to  him,  when 
he  told  of  his  love  for  animals.  Anything  that  breathed 
and  was  dumb,  appealed  to  the  very  best  that  there  was 
in  him.  At  San  Antonio,  he  was  given  one  of  the  worst 
animals  in  that  collection  of  wild  and  wicked  brutes. 
This  beast  was  unbroken,  and  had  been  shunned  even  by 
the  most  expert  cow-punchers  in  the  outfit.  Day  after 
day  Fish  worked  at  him  with  unvarying  and  patient 
kindness.  At  first  the  animal  threw  him,  but  by  the 
time  they  said  good-by  to  each  other,  when  the  horses 
were  left  behind  at  Tampa,  he  would  follow  Fish  around 
like  a  dog,  and  Fish  was  beginning  to  teach  him  tricks. 
In  the  meantime  the  animal's  disposition  had  not 
changed  in  the  least  toward  other  men.  lie  Avas  quite 
as  vicious  with  everyone  but  Fish,  as  he  had  been  at 
the  start. 

Just  before  we  started  up  the  hill  he  threw  away  a  new 
pair  of  shoes,  saying  that  he  would  never  need  them  any 
more.  He  had  some  extra  underwear,  too,  and  an  extra 
shirt.  These  he  gave  to  some  of  his  companions,  re 
marking  cheerfully,  as  he  did  so,  that  he  wouldn't  need 
them  after  the  battle,  for  dead  men  did  not  often  change 
their  clothes. 

I  have  already  said  that  his  body  has  been  removed 
from  Cuba,  and  now  lies  at  damson's,  !New  York. 

During  the  stay  at  San  Antonio,  Fish  saw  a  crowd  of 
men  surrounding  two  fighting  dogs.  He  slouched 
surlily  in  and  stopped  the  fight.  One  of  the  dogs  .was 
badly  hurt,  and  he  took  him  to  his  tent.  There 

208 


THE    MEN   WHO    DIED. 

he  bandaged  his  wounds,  and  gave  him  his  own  sup 
per. 

While  I  am  writing  of  the  men  who  died,  it  pleases 
me  to  briefly  mention  the  patriotism  of  the  father  of  one 
of  them.  lie  was  E.  G.  Norton,  of  Eustis,  Florida. 
He  had  two  sons,  Edward  and  Oliver,  in  B  Troop.  Ed. 
was  a  corporal;  Oliver,  who  had  been  a  medical  student 
in  Chicago  before  he  joined,  was  killed.  His  father 
heard  of  it  and  at  once  sent  down  to  Santiago  his  son, 
Gould  G.  In  the  letter  which  he  sent  with  him,  to 
Captain  McClintock,  he  said: 

"  This  is  my  third  son.  I  send  him  to  you  to  take  the 
place  of  my  son  Oliver,  who  was  killed.  It  is  religion 
with  the  Gortons  to  serve  their  country." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  E.  G.  Norton  was  a  Union 
soldier. 

Gerard  Merrick  Ives,  of  Troop  K,  was  one  of  the  men 
who  were  left  at  Tampa.  He  was  taken  sick  there  with 
typhoid,  and  brought  North  to  New  York,  where  he 
died.  He  was  the  son  of  the  sculptor  who  made  the 
famous  statues  of  Sherman  and  Trumbull,  now  at  Wash 
ington. 

Out  in  Eort  Sill,  Oklahoma,  a  little  woman  received 
a  parcel  five  or  six  weeks  after  the  battle  of  Las 
Guasimas.  In  it  were  all  that  she  will  ever  see  again 
that  Captain  Capron,  her  gallant  husband,  carried  into 
that  memorable  fight.  The  parcel  contained  a  dirty 
gray  campaign  hat  and  a  pair  of  shoulder  straps.  Both 
were  blood-stained.  They  were  wrapped  in  such  torn 
fragments  of  paper  as  could  be  found  near  the  field 
hospital  where  he  died,  and  around  the  whole  a  piece 
14  .  209 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOUGH  RIDERS. 

of  a  soldier's  tunic  was  tied  with  a  strand  of  Spanish 
wire. 

The  dead  on  the  field  of  San  Juan  were  buried  almost 
where  they  fell.  The  field  is  dotted  with  little  tomb 
stones,  erected  by  General  Wood,  and  as  Governor  of 
Santiago  he  keeps  a  patrol  constantly  on  the  field  to  look 
after  them,  night  and  day. 


210 


CHAPTER  XIL 

AFTER  THE  FIGHTING 
WAS  OVER. 

With  the  days  in  the  trenches  which  followed  the  day 
of  the  charge,  the  fighting  ceased.  Whether  our  men  had 
"  got  enough  "  or  not,  they  had  had  all  there  was  to  be 
had,  and  they  had  fought  as  hard,  and  fought  as  well,  and 


Grinding  their  Coffee. 

fought  as  fearlessly,  as  the  most  sanguine  of  them  ex 
pected  the  regiment  to  fight  when  that  regimental  cry 
was  invented  in  San  Antonio. 

The  days  in  the  trenches  up  to  the  time  of  the  sur 
render  were  weary  ones.  There  was  the  Same  old  suc 
cession  of  tropical  rains  and  burning  suns.  There  was 
digging  to  do,  and  there  were  sanitary  pains  to  take  which 
made  the  men  wish  that  the  monotony  of  armistices 
would  cease,  and  the  variety  and  excitement  of  battle  be- 

211 


THE   STOKF   OF   THE    ROUGH   RIDERS. 

gin  again.  'No  one  was  ever,  for  a  moment,  comfortable 
except  by  accident.  The  rations  were  scanty  and  bad. 
If  the  men  had  coffee  they  had  to  beat  the  beans  up  on 
stones  with  the  butts  of  their  revolvers  or  with  other 
stones  so  that  they  would  cook.  Tobacco  was  not  to  be 
had  at  any  price,  although  there  was  plenty  of  it  out  on 
some  of  the  transports. 

All  kinds  of  rumors  were  afloat.  It  was  said  that  the 
Spaniards  were  being  starved  out,  and  that  they  could 
fight  no  more;  indeed  the  news  that  came  to  the  men 
from  occasional  refugees  was  sufficiently  definite  on  this 
subject  of  starvation  to  make  it  certain.  The  men  had 
fought  with  the  Spaniards,  though,  and  had  achieved  a 
wholesome  respect  for  them  which  made  them  think  that 
all  the  truces  and  all  the  talk  of  surrender  were  used  to 
cloak  a  Spanish  trick  of  some  kind,  and  they  had  little 
belief  that  the  active  fighting  of  the  campaign  was  over. 

Already  the  news  of  Shafter's  famous  telegram  to 
Washington  had  been  told  and  retold  in  the  camp.  He 
did  not  worry  and  fret  about  his  "  thin  lines,"  and  tell 
the  President  that  he  might  have  to  retire  five  miles  on 
the  morning  of  July  second,  just  after  our  army  had 
made  one  of  the  most  gallant  and  successful  charges  in 
the  history  of  warfare,  without  the  knowledge  of  the 
private  soldiers.  It  is  rarely  a  commanding  general's 
fortune  to  hide  his  feelings  or  his  plans  from  the  men 
beneath  him.  No  matter  how  carefully  he  guards  his 
secrets  the  men  in  the  tents  are  likely  to  be  discussing 
them  before  the  ink  on  the  paper  to  which  he  has  com 
mitted  them  is  dry.  And  it  was  so  with  Shafter.  The 
men  in  the  ranks  of  the  Kough  Eiders  knew  that  he  was 

212 


AFTER   THE    FIGHTING    WAS   OVER. 

worried  and  that  lie  thought  seriously  of  retreat.  It 
was  the  men  who  had  made  the  fight,  it  was  the  men  who 
had  bled  and  died  in  it,  and  it  was  the  men  who  were 
not  afraid.  The  thought  of  going  back  after  what  they 
had  Avon,  filled  them  with  distress  and  shame.  They  had 
been  the  sufferers  at  the  start,  and  if  anything  worse 
than  what  had  already  happened  should  come  again, 
they  would  a  second  time  be  sufferers.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  the  private  soldiers  in  the  Rough  Riders  began 
to  feel  like  jeering  when  the  name  of  the  major-general 
commanding  was  spoken  in  their  hearing — a  feeling 
which  still  exists  in  the  hearts  of  most  of  them. 

I  have  been  told  that  I  have  no  right  to  criticise  Gen 
eral  Shafter,  because  I  did  not  see  the  things  for  which 
I  have  criticised  him  in  private  and  on  the  lecture  plat 
form.  I  was  lying  on  the  hospital  ship  when  most  of 
them  occurred,  but  I  was  not  lying  on  the  hospital  ship 
when  he  left  the  artillery  and  the  ambulances  at  Tampa 
—I  was  there.  I  was  not  on  the  hospital  ship  when  he 
disregarded  the  advice  and  the  carefully  laid  plans  of 
the  navy,  and  landed  at  the  wrong  place — I  was  there.  I 
was  not  lying  on  the  hospital  ship  when  he  sent  the  whole 
American  army  ashore  over  a  pier  which  could  have  been 
boarded  in  two  hours  but  wasn't — I  was  there  and  went 
over  it  myself.  And  because  I  was  on  the  hospital  ship 
during  the  events  that  followed,  I  know,  perhaps,  more 
about  them  than  I  would  have  known  if  I  had  been  at 
the  front.  My  acquaintance  in  the  army  and  among 
the  correspondents  who  were  watching  the  army,  was 
very  large,  and  because  of  the  fact  that  I  was  wounded 
and  obviously  out  of  the  business  of  the  transmission  of 

215 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

news,  my  acquaintances  spoke  very  freely  to  me.  It 
may  be  that  they  spoke  more  freely  to  me  because  the 
doctors  thought  that  I  was  dying,  and  so  they  may  have 
felt  that  they  could  unburden  their  minds  to  me  and  give 
themselves  relief  through  me,  without  danger,  on  the 
theory  that  I  would  presently  die,  and  dead  men  tell  no 
tales.  But,  at  any  rate,  they  did  come  to  me  and  they 
did  tell  me  what  was  going  on,  and  I  know  they  were 
not  lying  to  me. 

Man  after  man  poured  tales  of  Shafter's  incompetence 
and  Shafter's  intense  and  unalterable  egotism  into  my 
ears,  and  I  worried  about  the  American  army.  And  I 
had  cause  to  worry.  There  were  transport  captains  who 
came  aboard  the  "  Olivette  "  and  said  that  they  had  tons 
of  provisions  on  their  ships  and  could  not  get  orders  to 
take  them  off.  At  the  same  time  news  from  shore  told 
of  the  terrible  sufferings  of  the  troops  for  lack  of  food. 
There  were  surgeons  and  hospital  men  who  came  aboard 
and  told  how  the  hospitals  on  shore  were  handicapped 
by  lack  of  medical  supplies  and  orders  which  would  en 
force  good  sanitary  conditions.  On  the  "  Olivette  "  we 
did  not  suffer — we  had  a  surplus  that  they  were  welcome 
to.  Right  here  it  is  well  to  pay  a  little  tribute  to  Major 
Appel,  who  commanded  the  hospital  ship  "  Olivette/'  on 
which  I  was  as  comfortable  as  any  man  could  be  in  that 
climate,  with  a  big  hole  in  him  and  a  part  of  his  spine 
smashed  up  and  thrown  into  the  Caribbean  Sea.  Appel 
was  not  dearly  loved  by  the  men  under  him  and  was, 
unquestionably,  a  martinet  in  some  ways.  But  what  he 
needed,  he  got,  and  I  fancy  that  he  got  it  because  he  did 
not  propose  to  let  his  superior  officers  handicap  him  at 

216 


AFTER   THE    FIGHTING    WAS   OVER. 

the  expense  of  the  wounded  men  011  his  ship.  It  is 
certain  that  through  his  efforts  and  the  generosity  of  Mr. 
AY.  R.  Hearst,  the  owner  and  editor  of  the  2s"ew  York 
Journal,  who  brought  over,  in  some  of  his  boats,  fre 
quent  cargoes  of  ice  and  other  supplies  from  Jamaica  for 
the  sufferers  on  the  u  Olivette/'  purchased  at  his  own 
expense  and  given  free,  without  claims  on  the  govern 
ment,  the  men  on  our  boat  got  along  as  well  as  they 
could  be  expected  to  get  along  in  the  distressing  circum 
stances  which  surrounded  them. 

But  what  Appel  did  was  very  different  from  what  the 
heads  of  the  hospitals  which  were  more  directly  under 
Shafter's  supervision  on  shore  were  able  to  do. 

And  here  it  is  pleasant  to  place  another  record  to  the 
list  of  the  Rough  Rider's  achievements.  The  first  case 
of  yellow  fever  developed  during  the  night  of  June  25th. 
Burr  Mclntosh  was  the  victim.  I  have  already  spoken 
of  him  in  connection  with  the  time  preceding  the  march 
to  Siboney.  When  we  Avere  taken  down  to  the  shore  I 
have  told  how  we  were  put  into  a  curious  "little  shanty. 
It  should  have  been  burned  by  somebody's  orders,  but 
had  been  permitted  to  remain  standing  despite  the  fact 
that  Siborjey  had  been  known  as  a  yellow  fever  nest  in 
season.  The  navy  had  burned  every  building  at  Guan- 
tanamo  as  a  precaution  against  fever  infection,  but 
Shafter  had  let  these  little  shanties  stand.  AYe  were 
taken  into  this  one.  It  was  afterwards  learned  that  it 
had  actually  been  used  as  a  yellow  fever  hospital  during 
previous  epidemics,  and  it  is  not  at  all  improbable  that 
it  contributed  the  first  germs  which  afterwards  infected 
the  whole  army  in  Cuba.  MclntosVs  was  the  first  case. 

217 


THE   STOEY   OF   THE   ROUGH   KIBEKS. 

Many  came  after  it  with  a  rapidity  which  was  not  less 
than  startling. 

I  remember  distinctly  the  day  when  a  correspondent 
came  out  and  whispered  confidentially  to  me  that  there 
was  a  case  of  yellow  fever  ashore,  and  added  that  the 
story  of  it  must  be  kept  deathly  quiet.  I  held  it  as  a 
secret.  But  within  twelve  hours  it  was  no  secret,  for 
there  was  not  one  case  but  a  dozen,  and  the  grim  story  of 
suffering  and  death  from  foes  other  than  the  Spaniards 
began  to  be  telegraphed  to  all  parts  of  the  world. 

There  was  only  one  man  who  rose  to  the  occasion  after 
the  military  situation  became  such  that  any  man  could 
rise  to  it.  Of  course,  before  the  Spaniards  surrendered  it 
would  have  been  useless  to  talk  about  the  withdrawal  of 
our  men  from  this  dreadful  danger  that  trembled  threat 
eningly  over  them  in  each  of  the  miasmatic  mists  that 
rose  by  night;  that  shook  its  dreadful  yellow  fists  at  them 
from  every  thicket;  that  clasped  tlieir  necks  with  baby 
arms  when  they  helped  the  children  of  the  Cuban  refu 
gees  to  go  back  home  from  El  Caney;  that  threw  out 
grasping  tentacles  from  every  building  that  had  been 
allowed  to  stand  after  the  arrival  of  the  invading  army. 

But  after  the  surrender  came  and  the  war  was  over, 
at  least  in  that  part  of  Cuba,  there  was  no  disposition  on 
the  part  of  the  commanding  general  to  take  the  troops 
away  from  the  menace  of  the  fever.  The  shanties  at 
Siboney  from  which  the  plague  had,  in  all  human  prob 
ability,  started,  were  burned  at  last  on  the  order  of  Gen 
eral  Miles,  but  still  the  army  was  uselessly  held  there 
to  suffer  and  to  die,  at  the  mercy  of  a  foe  whom  bullets 
would  not  reach  as  they  had  reached  the  vanquished 

218 


AFTER   THE   FIGHTING   WAS   OVER. 

Spaniards,  and  which  fought  unceasingly — by  night,  by 
day,  without  alarms,  but  always  there  and  always  win 
ning  victories. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  the  record-making  genius  of 
the  regiment  again  appeared  and  induced  Colonel  Roose 
velt  to  violate  all  military  rules.  He  had  violated  them 
once  before  when  he  led  the  charge  at  San  Juan,  and 
that  had  turned  out  well.  Perhaps  he  had  gotten  into 
the  good  habit  of  doing  the  thing  which  was  obviously 
right  without  waiting  for  the  sign  from  superior  officers 
who  were  obviously  wrong.  At  any  rate,  at  this  point, 
on  his  own  responsibility,  he  sent  to  General  Shafter  the 
following,  and  now  famous,  letter,  which  was  dated 
August  1st: 

"MAJOR-GEN.  SHAFTER  : 

4 '  Sir — In  a  meeting  of  the  general  and  medical  officers  called 
by  you  at  the  palace  this  morning,  we  were  all,  as  you  know, 
unanimous  in  view  of  what  should  be  done  with  the  army.  To 
keep  us  here,  in  the  opinion  of  every  officer  commanding  a 
division  or  a  brigade,  will  simply  involve  the  destruction  of 
thousands.  There  is  no  possible  reason  for  not  shipping  prac 
tically  the  entire  command  North  at  once.  Yellow  fever  cases 
are  very  few  in  the  cavalry  division,  where  I  command  one  of 
the  two  brigades,  and  not  one  true  case  of  yellow  fever  has 
occurred  in  this  division,  except  among  the  men  sent  to  the 
hospital  at  Siboney,  where  they  have,  I  believe,  contracted  it. 
But  in  this  division  there  have  been  1,500  cases  of  malarial 
fever.  Not  a  man  has  died  from  it;  but  the  whole  command 
is  so  weakened  and  shattered  as  to  be  ripe  for  dying  like  rotten 
sheep  when  a  real  yellow-fever  epidemic,  instead  of  a  fake  epi 
demic  like  the  present,  strikes  us,  as  it  is  bound  to  if  \ve  stay 
here  at  the  height  of  the  sickly  season,  August  and  the  begin 
ning  of  September.  Quarantine  against  malarial  fever  is  much 
like  quarantine  against  the  toothache.  All  of  us  are  certain, 

219 


THE   STORY   OF   THE    ROUGH   RIDERS. 

as  soon  as  the  authorities  at  Washington  fully  appreciate  the 
conditions  of  the  army,  to  be  sent  home.  If  we  are  kept  here 
it  will,  in  all  human  probability,  mean  an  appalling  disaster, 
for  the  surgeons  here  estimate  that  over  half  the  army,  if  kept 
here  during  the  sickly  season,  will  die.  This  is  not  only  ter 
rible  from  the  standpoint  of  the  individual  lives  lost,  but  it 
means  ruin  from  the  standpoint  of  the  military  efficiency  of 
the  flower  of  the  American  army,  for  the  great  bulk  of  the 
regulars  are  here  with  you.  The  sick  list,  large  though  it  is, 
exceeding  4,000,  affords  but  a  faint  index  of  the  debilitation  of 
the  army.  Not  10  per  cent,  are  fit  for  active  work.  Six  weeks 
011  the  North  Maine  coast,  for  instance,  or  elsewhere  where  the 
yellow-fever  germ  cannot  possibly  propagate,  would  make  us 
all  as  fit  as  fighting  cocks,  able  as  we  are  and  eager  to  take  a 
leading  part  in  the  great  campaign  against  Havana  in  the  fall, 
even  if  we  are  not  allowed  to  try  Porto  Rico.  We  can  be 
moved  North,  if  moved  at  once,  with  absolute  safety  to  the 
country,  although,  of  course,  it  would  have  been  infinitely 
better  if  we  had  been  moved  North  or  to  Porto  Rico  two  weeks 
ago.  If  there  were  any  object  in  keeping  us  here  we  would 
face  yellow  fever  with  as  much  indifference  as  we  face  bullets. 
But  there  is  no  object  in  it.  The  four  immune  regiments 
ordered  here  are  sufficient  to  garrison  the  city  and  surround 
ing  towns,  and  there  is  absolutely  nothing  for  us  to  do  here, 
and  there  has  not  been  since  the  city  surrendered.  It  is  im 
possible  to  move  into  the  interior.  Every  shifting  of  camp 
doubles  the  sick  rate  in  our  present  weakened  condition,  and, 
anyhow,  the  interior  is  rather  worse  than  the  coast,  as  I  have 
found  by  actual  reconnoissance.  Our  present  camps  are  as 
healthy  as  any  camps  at  this  end  of  the  island  can  be.  I  write 
only  because  I  cannot  see  our  men,  who  have  fought  so  bravely 
and  who  have  endured  extreme  hardship  and  danger  so  un 
complainingly,  go  to  destruction  without  striving,  so  far  as 
lies  in  me,  to  avert  a  doom  as  fearful  as  it  is  unnecessary  and 
undeserved. 

"  Yours  respectfully, 

' '  THEODORE  ROOSEVELT, 

"Colonel  Commanding  First  Brigade." 
220 


AFTER  THE   FIGHTING   WAS   OVER. 

This  had  the  desired  effect.  Just  as  the  other  officers 
had  followed  Roosevelt  at  San  Juan  in  the  attack  on  the 
Spaniards,  they  now  followed  him  in  the  equally  well- 
considered  effort  to  retreat  from  the  fever.  Roosevelt's 
letter  was  scarcely  cold  when  the  following  "  round 
robin  "  was  sent  in : 

"We,  the  undersigned  officers  commanding  the  various 
brigades,  divisions,  etc. ,  of  the  Army  of  Occupation  in  Cuba, 
are  of  the  unanimous  opinion  that  the  army  should  be  at  once 
taken  out  of  the  Island  of  Cuba  and  sent  to  some  point  on  the 
Northern  sea-coast  of  the  United  States ;  that  it  can  be  done 
without  danger  to  the  people  of  the  United  States  ;  that  yellow 
fever  in  the  army  at  present  is  not  epidemic ;  that  there  are  only 
a  few  sporadic  cases,  but  that  the  army  is  disabled  by  malarial 
fever  to  the  extent  that  its  efficiency  is  destroyed,  and  that  it  is 
in  a  condition  to  be  practically  entirely  destroyed  by  an  epi 
demic  of  yellow  fever,  which  is  sure  to  come  in  the  near  future. 
We  know  from  the  reports  of  competent  officers  and  from  per 
sonal  observations  that  the  army  is  unable  to  move  into  the 
interior,  and  that  there  are  no  facilities  for  such  a  move  if  at 
tempted,  and  that  it  could  not  be  attempted  until  too  late. 
Moreover,  the  best  medical  authorities  of  the  island  say  that 
with  our  present  equipment  we  could  not  live  in  the  interior 
during  the  rainy  season  without  losses  from  malarial  fever, 
which  is  almost  as  deadly  as  yellow  fever.  This  army  must  be 
moved  at  once,  or  perish.  As  the  army  can  be  safely  moved 
now,  the  persons  responsible  for  preventing  such  a  move  will 
be  responsible  for  the  unnecessary  loss  of  many  thousands  of 
lives.  Our  opinions  are  the  result  of  careful  personal  observa 
tion,  and  they  are  also  based  on  the  unanimous  opinion  of  our 
medical  officers  with  the  army,  and  who  understood  the  situa 
tion  absolutely. 

"  J.  FORD  KENT, 

"  Major-General   Volunteers, 
"Commanding  First  Division,  Fifth  Corps. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS. 

"J.  C.  BATES, 

"  Major-General  Volunteers, 
"Commanding  Provisional  Division. 

"ADNA  R.  CHAFFEE, 
"  Major-General  Volunteers, 
6 'Commanding  Third  Brigade,  Second  Division. 

' '  SAMUEL  S.  SUMNER, 
' '  Brigadier-General  Volunteers, 
"  Commanding  First  Brigade,  Cavalry. 

"  WILL  LUDLOW, 
' '  Brigadier-General  Volunteers, 
'*  Commanding  First  Brigade,  Second  Division. 

"ADELBERT  AMES, 
"  Brigadier-General  Volunteers, 
"  Commanding  Third  Brigade,  First  Division. 

"LEONARD  WOOD, 

' '  Brigadier-General  Volunteers, 

' '  Commanding  the  City  of  Santiago. 

"THEODORE  ROOSEVELT, 
"  Colonel,  Commanding  Second  Cavalry  Brigade." 

The  Associated  Press  despatch  from  Santiago  which 
followed  this  presentation  said: 

Major  M.  W.  Wood,  the  Chief  Surgeon  of  the  First  Division, 
said: 

"The  army  must  be  moved  north,"  adding,  with  emphasis, 
"  or  it  will  be  unable  to  move  itself." 

General  Ames  has  sent  the  following  cable  message  to  Wash 
ington  : 

"The  Hon.  Charles  H.  Allen,  Assistant  Secretary  of  the 
Navy :  This  army  is  incapable,  because  of  sickness,  of  march 
ing  anywhere,  except  to  the  transports.  If  it  is  ever  to  return 
to  the  United  States  it  must  do  so  at  once." 

222 


AFTER   THE    FIGHTING   WAS   OVER. 

To  a  correspondent  of  the  Associated  Press  General  Ames 
said :  "  If  I  had  the  power  I  would  put  the  men  on  the  trans 
ports  at  once  and  ship  them  North  without  further  orders.  I 
am  confident  such  action  would  ultimately  be  approved.  A 
full  list  of  the  sick  would  mean  a  copy  of  the  roster  of  every 
company  here." 

And  so  the  army  was  started  North.  Providence 
alone  knows  when  it  would  have  been  started  if  Roose 
velt  had  not  sent  his  letter.  Its  condition  certainly 
would  not  have  been  so  plain  to  the  authorities  at  Wash 
ington  who  were  depending  on  Shafter  for  their  news  of 
it,  if  Roosevelt  had  not  acted.  And  so  I  say  that  the 
Rough  Riders  again  added  to  their  record,  when  Roose 
velt  sent  in  his  letter. 


223 


CHAPTER  XIIL 
LAST  DAYS  IN  CUBA. 

I  am  afraid  that  the  chapter  which  has  preceded  this 
has  been  a  dull  one.  The  deeds  of  the  Rough  Eiders 
were  so  fast  and  furious  while  fighting  was  going  on,  and 
their  whole  conduct  was  so  free  from  the  conventionality 
of  military  usage  that  to  include  military  reports  and 
letters  in  the  story  of  them  seems  almost  like  describing 
the  process  of  making  iron  girders  in  a  story  of  a  fire, 
because  there  were  some  used  in  the  construction  of  the 
burning  building. 

The  men  Avere  living  their  strange  lives,  working  hard 
and  getting  little  comfort  from  their  work.  When  the 
armistices  and  truces  were  on,  they  loafed  about  the 
trenches  and  kept  as  cool  as  they  could,  which  was  not 
very  cool.  When  the  armistices  and  truces  were  off, 
they  struggled  with  the  situation  as  Avell  as  they  could 
struggle  with  it,  and  sometimes  they  took  a  shot  at  some 
impertinent  Spaniard  who  made  the  serious  mistake  of 
putting  his  head  up  within  range. 

Not  a  day  passed  but  some  one  of  them  complained  in 
the  morning  that  his  bones  ached,  and  said  it  with  such 
a  pitiful  expression  of  rolling  yellow  eyeballs  that  his 
comrades  could  not  fail  to  know  what  was  the  matter 
with  him.  It  was  generally  about  five  hours  after  these 
first  complaints  that  it  was  necessary  to  carry  the  man 

224 


LAST  DAYS   IN   CUBA. 

away  to  the  hospital,  often  raving  with  fever — yellow 
fever,  of  course. 

Notwithstanding  the  feeling  of  contempt  which  the 
Cubans  had  earned  for  themselves  in  the  minds  of  the 
Hough  Riders,  and  the  general  desire  to  jeer  whenever  a 
Cuban  uniform,  or  the  poor  pretence  at  one  which  was 
prevalent,  came  into  sight,  the  men  were  filled  with  sym 
pathy  for  the  poor  half-starved  refugees  and  reconcen- 
trados  who  came  to  them  for  help  and  food. 

A  great  many  refugees  who  had  fled  from  Santiago 
when  the  city  was  warned  that  it  would  be  bombarded, 
had  gathered  at  El  Caney.  They  had  found  little  that 
was  better  there  than  that  which  they  had  known  in  the 
places  they  had  come  from,  except  the  food  which  the 
poorly  provisioned  American  soldiers  had  been  able  to 
give  them.  There  was  nothing  that  was  systematic  or 
effective  in  the  efforts  made  to  relieve  their  distress  at 
first. 

A  deep  gash  in  a  ridge  was  cut  by  the  road  leading 
to  El  Caney.  This  gash  was  held  by  the  Rough  Riders. 
Thousands  of  Cuban  refugees  passed  along  the  road  on 
their  return  to  Santiago,  after  the  surrender.  The  men 
had  not  more  than  half  rations,  but  when  they  saw  the 
poor  Cubans  coming  up  this  trail,  they  forgot  at  once 
their  contempt  for  the  race  and  their  own  hunger.  They 
gave  away  their  half  rations  with  a  reckless  indifference 
as  to  what  the  morrow  might  bring  forth.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  morrow  brought  forth  exactly  what  it  might 
have  been  expected  to — nothing.  The  men  suffered 
greater  privation  through  their  own  generosity  at  this 
time,  than  they  had  at  any  time  before  through  the 

227 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS. 

failure  of  the  Commissary  Department  to  furnish  them 
with  supplies. 

They  not  only  gave  away  their  rations,  but  they  of 
fered  such  personal  assistance  as  they  could  to  the  weak 
ened  women  and  famished  children  among  the  refugees. 
Many  and  many  a  woman,  and  many  and  many  a  child, 
was  literally  carried  through  all  that  territory  included 
within  the  Rough  Riders'  boundaries.  This  work  of 
assistance  was  headed  by  "  Happy  Jack  "  of  Arizona. 
Finally  Dr.  Bob  Church  heard  of  it,  and  ordered  it 
stopped.  He  realized  that  the  Cubans  were  likely  to 
transfer  fever  germs  to  the  American  troops  if  such 
close  contact  was  permitted.  He  assured  Colonel  Roose 
velt  that  he  would  not  answer  for  the  health  of  the  men 
if  they  persisted  in  helpipg  the  Cubans.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life  "Happy  Jack"  gave  evidence  that  he 
realized  the  existence  of  religious  things.  He  said  to 
Colonel  Roosevelt: 

"  God  wouldn't  let  a  fellow  caich  yellow  fever  while 
he  was  doing  a  good  turn  for  them  kids." 

Of  course  at  this  period  many  of  the  men  were  in 
the  hospitals  and  suffering  dreadfully.  There  were  mis 
takes  in  connection  with  the  Cuban  hospitals,  as  there 
will  probably  always  be  mistakes  in  connection  with  all 
things  human.  The  Rough  Riders  suffered  through 
these  mistakes,  as  other  soldiers  suffered.  Complaints 
of  their  misfortunes  reached  Colonel  Roosevelt.  A  man 
went  up  to  him  diffidently  one  day,  and  saluting,  said : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  colonel,  but  I  have  just  come 
from  the  hospital;  I  wasn't  very  sick  and  so  T  got  along 
all  right,  but  there  are  those  among  our  boys  down  there 

228 


LAST   DAYS   IN   CUBA. 

who  are  suffering  terribly,  and  I  do  not  think  that  they 
are  getting  proper  treatment.  I  beg  pardon,  sir." 

It  had  been  understood  for  a  long  time  that  Colonel 
Roosevelt  did  not  want  to  hear  complaints.  It  was  his 
theory  that  the  men  who  were  under  him  had  seen 
enough  of  life,  and  rough  life,  too,  so  that  they  did  not 
need  to  be  finding  fault.  Hence  the  man's  timidity. 
But  on  this  occasion  it  was  not  necessary  to  be  timid. 
Roosevelt  turned  to  him  quickly  and  thanked  him  for 
telling  him  the  story.  Then  he  went  quickly  to  the 
hospital. 

He  was  rather  a  rough-looking  character  by  this  time. 
The  one  shoulder  strap  which  had  been  hanging  by  a 
single  thread  at  San  Juan  Avas  lost  now  and  there  was 
nothing  on  him  except  his  riding  breeches,  with  their 
yellow  stripes,  to  show  that  he  was  an  officer. 

"  How  are  the  boys  getting  along?  "  asked  the  colonel. 

u  Who  are  you?  "  said  the  surgeon. 

Whereupon,  Colonel  Roosevelt  waxed  exceedingly 
wroth  and  made  remarks  which  would  not  have  helped 
him  in  his  gubernatorial  campaign  if  he  had  repeated 
them  while  he  was  stumping  New  York  State. 

"I'm  your  superior  officer,  sir,  Colonel  Roosevelt; 
stand  at  attention,  salute,  and  take  your  hat  off."  This 
is  an  expurgated  version  of  what  the  colonel  said. 

The  surgeon  lost  no  time  in  getting  his  heels  together 
and  buttoning  up  his  open  shirt. 

After  that  one  visit,  there  were  no  more  complaints 
concerning  the  way  the  Rough  Riders  were  cared  for  in 
that  hospital. 

The  virtual  end  of  the  war  came  when  the  American 
229 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  ROUGH  EIDERS. 

flag  was  raised  on  the  palace  at  Santiago.  The  Rough 
Riders  were  not  among  the  troops  which  were  sent  into 
Santiago  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony;  they  remained 
in  the  field.  They  were  among  the  thousands  who  stayed 
on  the  crest  of  the  ridges  which  had  been  won  at  the 
cost  of  so  many  lives.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the 
straggling  line  of  uniformed  men  stretched  off  into  the 
distance.  Conspicuous  among  the  blue  uniforms  of 
the  regular  troops  were  the  brown  duck  suits  of  the 
Rough  Riders.  The  hills  of  San  Juan,  and  the  other 
eminences  commanding  Santiago,  swarmed  with  happy, 
cheering  men. 

The  Rough  Riders  were  not  only  the  most  conspicuous 
of  the  soldiers,  but  they  were  the  heroes  of  the  occasion; 
the  other  troops  did  them  high  honor.  The  First  Illi 
nois  Volunteers  began  the  cheering  for  them.  After 
the  first  three  times  three  had  been  given,  Private 
Hughes,  of  the  Rough  Riders,  called  for  another  three 
times  three  for  Colonel  Roosevelt,  the  man  who  had  led 
the  charge  up  San  Juan.  The  whole  army  replied  with 
one  great  voice.  A  mighty  roar  went  up  and  Colonel 
Roosevelt  was  happier  than  he  had  been  since  the  mo 
ment  when  that  bit  of  shell  struck  him  on  the  back  of 
his  hand.  He  waved  his  hat  with  the  famous  blue  polka- 
dot  handkerchief  attached  to  it  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  tribute,  and,  in  his  turn,  called  for  three  cheers  for 
the  army.  They  were  given  with  enthusiasm  so  great, 
that  the  troops  in  Santiago  heard  them. 

The  beginning  of  the  end  came  in  Cuba  on  the  Yth 
of  August.  It  is  a  matter  of  speculation  in  the  regiment 
whether  the  marching  orders  it  received  at  San  Antonio, 

230 


LAST  DAYS   IN   CUBA. 

on  May  28th,  or  the  marching  orders  it  received  near 
Santiago,  on  August  7th,  were  most  loudly  cheered.  Re 
veille  was  sounded  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  the 
regiment  broke  camp  with  a  skill  acquired  by  much 
practice.  It  marched  to  the  railroad  and  took  train  to 
Santiago,  reaching  there  at  1  p.m. 

At  the  Santiago  station,  the  troops  fell  into  parade 
formation  and  marched  like  veterans;  each  troop  was 
preceded  by  its  little  flag,  bearing  the  troop  letter  and  the 
number  of  the  regiment,  and  made  a  sort  of  triumphal 
progress  through  the  conquered  Spanish  city. 

Colonel  Roosevelt  rode  at  the  head  of  the  regiment 
on  the  same  sorrel  horse  which  had  been  wounded  at 
the  charge  of  San  Juan.  He  was  an  extremely  happy 
colonel;  his  round-robin  had  worked,  and  his  men  were 
being  sent  away  beyond  the  reach  of  the  ghastly  yellow 
arms  which  the  fever  spectre  had  stretched  out  toward 
them.  They  were  leaving  Cuba  with  a  record  on  which 
there  was  not  one  smirch;  they  had  played  their  im 
portant  parts  in  every  engagement  in  Cuba;  they  had 
missed  nothing  which  was  worth  doing,  and  they  had 
done  nothing  which  was  worth  missing.  The  man  who 
had  gone  to  Cuba  as  the  commander  of  the  regiment, 
had  earned  his  promotion  to  a  brigadier-generalship  and 
had  received  it  as  soon  as  he  had  earned  it.  This  was 
pleasing  for  many  reasons.  The  men  loved  Wood  as 
well  as  they  loved  Roosevelt.  Roosevelt's  friendship  for 
Wood  was  honest  and  sincere,  and  he  was  glad  to  see  him 
elevated;  and  besides,  with  Wood's  elevation  came 
Roosevelt's  rise  to  the  head  of  the  regiment,  which  the 
public  had  named  after  him.  He  himself,  while  brav- 

231 


THE    STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

ing  every  danger  and  taking  every  desperate  chance  he 
asked  his  men.  to  take,  had  escaped  unscathed.  A  small 
scar  on  his  left  hand  was  the  only  mark  of  battle  he  was 
taking  home  with  him,  and  he  had  not  dodged  a  single 
bullet.  These  reflections  were  pleasant  to  the  colonel. 
He  knew,  as  he  rode  through  those  Santiago  streets,  that, 
partly  because  of  his  efforts,  the  most  extraordinary  regi 
ment  in  the  army  had  been  organized  and  equipped  as  no 
other  volunteer  regiment  Avas  equipped;  he  knew  that 
that  regiment  had  raised  the  first  flag  raised  by  the  army 
in  Cuba;  had  killed  the  first  Spaniard  killed  by  the  army 
in  Cuba;  had  lost  the  first  man  lost  by  the  army  in  Cuba; 
had  led  every  battle  fought  by  the  army  in  Cuba,  and  he 
kneAV  that  his  own  personal  efforts  were  responsible  for 
the  fact  that  the  army  in  Cuba,  its  work  well  done,  was 
going  North  again  to  escape  the  one  enemy  it  could  not 
fight — the  fever.  Is  it  a  wonder  that  Teddy  Roosevelt 
showed  his  teeth  as  he  rode  through  Santiago?  I  have 
known  him  and  seen  him  as  Civil  Service  Commissioner, 
as  Police  Commissioner,  as  he  went  into  his  first  battle, 
as  lie  was  inaugurated  Governor  of  the  State  of  New 
York,  and  yet  T  doubt  if  I  have  ever  known  him  at  a 
moment  more  satisfactory  than  that  which  I  am  now 
recording. 

The  regiment  inarched  down  the  Alameda,  skirting 
the  water  front,  to  the  dock  where  the  transport 
"  Miami  "  was  moored.  The  men  were  worn  out,  and 
their  steps  lagged  as  they  turned  toward  home  with  a 
weariness  which  had  not  shown  in  them  when  they 
turned  toward  the  enemy.  They  were  haggard  and 
ragged  and  hungry.  A  few  new  Khaki  suits  made  bright 

232 


LAST   DAYS   IN    CUBA. 

yellow  spots  in  the  dull  brown  monotony  of  ragged  duck 
uniforms.  They  were  the  punctuation  marks  of  the 
story  of  trial  and  hardship  which  the  clothes  of  the 
Hough  Riders  told  as  plainly  as  their  faces  did,  and  told 
much  more  plainly  than  their  quietly  enduring  lips  did 
when  they  reached  the  North  and  home. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  speak  of  the  ghastly  gaps  in  their 
ranks,  which  made  the  strong  troopers  wince  as  they 
looked  at  them. 

The  official  story  of  the  men  who  had  died  and  were 
wounded  in  battle  is  told  in  the  regimental  roster  which 
ends  this  book.  The  complete  official  story  of  the  men 
who  died  in  hospital — they  were  as  brave  as  their  com 
rades  who  were  shot — cannot  be  told,  because  the  records 
of  the  War  Department  have  not  been  completed.  Only 
seven  living  men  were  left  behind  in  Cuba.  These  were 
Second  Lieutenant  Wm.  Tiffany,  of  Troop  K;  Corporal 
Edgar  Schwarz,  of  Troop  G;  and  Privates  Wm.  E. 
Iloyle,  of  Troop  E;  F.  G.  Whalen,  of  Troop  A,  and  F. 
G.  Page,  of  Troop  I).  The  men  who  left  were  sorry 
for  the  comrades  who  remained  behind,  but  they  were 
wild  with  joy  over  their  own  chance  to  get  away.  Most 
of  their  tents  and  all  their  baggage  had  fallen  prey  to 
the  marauding  Cubans,  who  had  ever  followed  our 
troops,  so  that  they  embarked  in  their  skins  and  in  their 
uniforms;  they  carried  little  else  away  from  Cuba  with 
them,  except  their  arms  and  what  ammunition  they  had 
not  already  been  called  upon  to  devote  to  Spanish 
enemies. 

The  embarkation  was  quick  and  easy.  The  regiment 
by  this  time  had  learned  the  trick  of  machine  work  and 

233 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

those  little  difficulties  and  delays  which  occurred  in  its 
early  history  no  longer  handicapped  the  men.  From 
Santiago,  Colonel  Roosevelt  sent  this  final  message : 

"  We  shall  take  home  with  us  a  record  of  which  we 
have  reason  to  be  proud;  we  leave  behind  us  a  few 
Rough  Riders  who  are  too  feeble  to  be  moved,  but  we 
had  a  larger  percentage  of  soldiers  killed  in  battle  than 
the  percentage  of  loss  by  fever  and  disease." 


234 


CHAPTER  XIV* 
HOME  AGAIN. 

The  regiment  came  North  in  two  sections.  First 
were  the  men  who,  disappointed,  disgruntled,  and  un 
happy,  arrived  in  Jersey  City,  August  10th,  from 
Tampa.  They  were  the  men  who  have  been  spoken  of 
as  wearily  waiting,  hoping  earnestly  for  orders  to  really 
go  to  the  front,  which  never  came.  They  came  North 
on  trains,  and  on  these  trains  were  such  members  of 
Troops  C,  II,  I,  and  M  as  were  strong  enough  to  come. 
When  they  arrived  they  were  as  hungry  as  they  had 
been  on  that  morning  when  they  reached  Tampa.  Then, 
as  now,  they  had  been  provided  with  insufficient  rations. 
Then,  as  now,  they  had  become  the  victims  of  the  rail 
road  company.  Their  numbers  had  been  sadly  depleted 
by  all  kinds  of  sickness,  and  they  were  heartsick  over 
their  failure  to  go  to  Cuba,  as  well  as  bruised  and  worn 
by  the  terrific  journey  up  from  Tampa.  They  brought 
with  them  as  many  of  the  eleven  hundred  horses  and 
mules,  which  had  been  left  in  their  charge,  as  remained 
to  be  brought,  and  their  minds  were  full  of  the  dis 
couraging  fact  that,  during  the  war  with  Spain,  they 
had  only  cared  for  animals.  When  they  reached  Jersey 
City,  they  had  been  without  proper  rations  for  more  than 
twenty-four  hours,  and  life  seemed  very  dreary  to  them. 
Some  factory  girls  divided  their  luncheons  with  them. 

235 


THE    STOKY    OF   THE   ItOUGH    KIDERS. 

Five  days  later,  a  different  sight  entirely  was  enacted 
at  Montauk,  L.  I.,  when  the  six  troops  who  had  really 
gone  to  Cuba,  sailed  in  on  the  transport  "  Miami."  Their 
arrival  was  a  scene  of  triumph.  Unlike  their  equally 
brave  comrades  who  had  been  forced  to  spend  the  war 
days  among  the  sand  flies  and  crackers  of  dismal  Florida, 
they  had  actually  been  to  war.  Whatever  fighting  there 
had  been  to  see  they  had  seen.  Many  of  them  had  felt  the 
sting  of  Mauser  bullets,  and  many  others  who  had  gone 
South  with  them  remained  there  sleeping  in  rude  graves 
on  Cuban  battlefields,  mute  evidences  of  the  regiment's 
heroism.  Six  troops  were  there.  New  York  had  been 
waiting  for  them,  and  preparing  to  receive  them  for 
many  days.  The  deeds  of  daring  which  the  Rough 
Riders  had  credited  to  themselves  had  been  recorded  by 
a  thousand  printing  presses  within  the  metropolis,  and 
the  stories  read  by  seventy  million  eager  eyes.  The  war 
was  over.  New  York's  own  Seventy-first  Regiment  had 
fallen  the  victim  of  four  or  five  incompetent  and  un 
pleasant  officers,  and  come  back  to  pass  quietly  into  an 
ignominious  oblivion,  which  was  to  be  interrupted  occa 
sionally  only  by  the  shrill  shouts  of  scandal.  New 
York's  Sixty-ninth  had  had  no  opportunity  to  distinguish 
itself.  So  New  York  turned  out  to  welcome  the  Rough 
Riders.  They  were  not  of  New  York,  but  New  York 
was  emphatically  for  them.  Roosevelt,  who  was  one  of 
New  York's  favorite  sons,  had  been  promoted  to  their 
colonelcy,  and  his  name  was  whispered  constantly  as  that 
of  the  man  who  would  win,  at  this,  the  beginning  of  one 
of  the  State's  most  exciting  gubernatorial  campaigns. 

It  was  long  before  daylight  when  the  "  Miami  "  pulled 


HOME   AGAIN. 

into  the  harbor,  out  there  at  the  end  of  Long  Island,  but 
she  did  not  find  the  men  who  were  there  to  receive  her, 
napping.  The  harbor  was  dotted  with  the  white  hulls 
of  welcoming  yachts,  and  as  her  name  was  signalled  to 
the  shore,  these  set  up  a  deafening  scream  of  welcome 
from  their  steam  whistles.  One  or  two,  even,  fired  greet 
ing  guns. 

For  a  long  time  the  troopship  lay  there  in  the  harbor, 
waiting  for  orders  from  shore.  All  the  morning,  the 
yachts  plied  ceaselessly  in  discreet  circles  about  the 
transport,  and  busy  little  steam  launches  ran  as  near  to 
her  as  the  health  officers  would  permit,  so  that  friends 
could  shout  merry  messages  to  those  on  the  "  Miami," 
and  they  could  send  ecstatic  words  of  happiness  back. 

Besides  the  six  troops  of  Rough  Riders,  the  "  Miami  " 
carried  the  four  troops  of  the  Third  Cavalry,  with  Gen 
eral  Joseph  Wheeler  and  Lieut.  Joseph  Wheeler,  Jr.,  as 
well.  It  was  about  noon,  August  18th,  and  wild  cheers 
from  the  waiting  soldiers  on  shore  marked  the  approach 
of  the  "  Miami  "  towards  the  dock.  The  gull-like  yachts 
drew  in  more  closely.  The  hustling  little  launches  sput 
tered  nearer  than  they  had  been  permitted  to  go  before. 
A  band  on  board  struck  up,  "  When  Johnny  comes 
marching  home  again,"  and  the  cheering  became  gen 
eral  as  the  cables  from  the  great  steamer  were  made  fast 
to  the  stanchions  on  the  pier.  When  the  gangplank 
was  finally  put  down,  everyone  was  cheering.  The  blue- 
coats  on  shore  were  yelling  with  an  enthusiasm  which 
they  had  not  shown  since  they  had  reached  Montauk. 
The  civilian  friends  of  the  men  on  board  were  yelling 
with  an  enthusiasm  which  they  had  never  known  before, 

239 


THE   STOKY    OF   THE    KOUGH    KIDEKS. 

and  the  Rough  Riders  themselves  were  yelling  with  that 
enthusiasm  which  can  only  be  appreciated  by  the  soldier 
who  has  been  away  fighting,  in  a  foreign  land,  against 
death  in  all  its  forms.  After  the  first  three  cheers,  the 
men  on  board  took  up  their  cowboy  yell,  and  from  the 
"  Miami  "  there  rang  out,  as  there  had  rung  out  at  San 
Antonio,  in  Florida,  and  in  Cuba,  that  bit  of  doggerel 
rhyme,  which  meant  so  much. 

Rough,  tough,  we're  the  stuff, 
We  want  to  fight  and  we  can't  get  enough, 
Whoop-ee. 

With  the  first  glimpse  of  Roosevelt  on  the  bridge  of 
the  ship,  the  crowd  on  shore  went  mad.  lie  was  the  one 
paramount  military  hero  of  the  war.  lie  was  the  man 
on  horseback  in  the  politics  of  the  State.  He  was  Roose 
velt.  When  "  Teddy  and  his  teeth  "  came  down  the 
gangplank,  the  last  ultimate  climax  of  the  possibility  of 
cheering  was  reached.  He  was  bronzed  by  the  Cuban 
sun,  and  his  uniform  was  worn  out,  and  stained  by  the 
trials  of  the  campaign.  But  he  was  happier  than  Theo 
dore  Roosevelt  ever  had  been  before,  or  probably  ever 
will  be  again.  lie  had  come  home  to  step  into  the 
superb  inheritance  which  he  had  earned  in  Cuba. 

A  moment  after  Roosevelt  had  stepped  upon  the  gang 
plank,  General  Wheeler  ran  forward,  and  taking  him  by 
the  arm,  came  down  with  him.  The  Rough  Riders  who 
had  been  at  Tampa  had  begged  for  the  poor  privilege  of 
doing  guard  duty  on  the  dock  while  their  more  fortu 
nate  comrades  in  arms  stepped  ashore,  and  they  had  great 
difficulty  in  keeping  the  soldiers  and  civilians  alike,  who 

240 


HOME   AGAIN. 

were  gathered  on  that  clock,  from  rushing  forward. 
When  they  saw  the  famous  old  Confederate  cavalry  com 
mander  and  the  famous  ~Nc\v  York  hero  walking  down 
together,  their  enthusiasm  knew  no  bounds,  and  their 
great  desire  was  to  pick  them  up  and  bear  them  on  their 
shoulders.  Crossed  bayonets  alone  prevented  this. 
From  the  dock  itself,  from  the  ground  beyond  it,  and 
from  the  roofs  of  the  freight  cars  standing  on  the  tracks, 
ten  thousand  cheers  went  up. 

General  Young  and  his  staff  were  on  the  pier,  and 
were  the  first  to  greet  the  two  famous  soldiers.  Just 
behind  them,  and  close  up  to  the  guard  line,  was  Mrs. 
General  John  A.  Logan.  She  had  been  the  very  first 
to  recognize  Roosevelt  when  lie  appeared  on  the  bridge 
of  the  ship,  and  was  the  first  to  rush  forward  and  clasp 
his  hands  in  both  of  hers  as  he  stepped  on  the  dock. 

Roosevelt's  men  followed  him  down  the  gangplank  in 
double  file,  with  the  company  officers  at  the  head  of 
each  troop,  and  if  the  cheering  diminished  as  they  came, 
it  was  only  because  the  throats  of  the  men  who  cheered 
had  already  become  hoarse,  and  not  because  their  hearts 
were  less  full  of  enthusiasm.  Individual  greetings  were 
shouted  to  many  of  the  men  by  friends,  some  of  whom 
had  come  from  beyond  the  Mississippi  to  give  them 
welcome  that  day. 

The  shouts  of  the  crowd  were  only  silenced  when  a 
soldier  answered  the  cry: 

"  How  are  you,  Sullivan?  " 

"  Fin  well,  thank  God,"  said  Sullivan,  "  but  more 
than  half  of  my  troop  were  left  behind  among  the  dead 
and  sick  at  Santiago." 

241 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH   EIDERS. 

One  man  took  off  his  hat  to  cheer  again,  but  his  voice 
was  husky,  and  now  as  the  spectators  watched  the  ragged 
unshaved  veterans  march  down  that  gangplank,  they  all 
uncovered,  and  this  silence  was  more  impressive  than 
their  preceding  cheers  had  been.  Fathers,  mothers, 
brothers,  sisters,  sweethearts,  and  wives  were  in  that 
crowd,  and  some  of  them  looked  in  vain  for  the  faces 
that  they  longed  to  see. 

So  at  the  end,  the  landing  of  the  troops  at  Montauk 
had  a  tinge  of  sadness  cast  over  it,  in  sharp  contrast  to 
the  exuberant  joy  with  which  it  had  begun. 

The  period  the  regiment  passed  at  Montauk  was,  in 
some  respects,  like  the  days  at  San  Antonio.  Only  at 
San  Antonio  the  work  of  drill  and  discipline  was  con 
stant.  The  men  were  expecting  fight  in  those  days  and 
wanted  to  be  prepared  for  it.  At  Montauk  they  had  had 
their  fight  and  wanted  to  forget  it.  They  chose  various 
ways  of  bringing  about  forgetfulness.  I  have  seen  news 
paper  stories  to  the  effect  that  the  Rough  Riders  were 
hard  drinkers.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  drank  no  more 
than  other  soldiers.  There  were  plenty  of  available 
"  canteens/'  or  drinking  places,  at  Montauk,  but  the 
proportion  of  Rough  Riders  who  patronized  them  was 
no  greater  than  the  proportion  of  men  who  patronized 
them  from  other  regiments.  One  man,  who  lost  his 
popularity  in  the  regiment  by  doing  it,  wrote  an  article 
for  a  Chicago  paper,  saying  that  the  men  of  the  Rough 
Riders  wrere  likely  to  forget  those  safeguards  which,  in 
civilized  communities,  are  supposed  to  surround  the 
ownership  of  personal  property.  He  was  very  properly 
thrown  into  the  guard-tent  for  writing  the  story. 

242 


HOME   AGAIN. 

The  general  spirit  of  the  men  was  more  accurately 
caught  during  this  period  by  a  Xew  York  Sun  writer, 
than  by  anyone  else.  For  that  reason  I  shall  take  the 
liberty  of  quoting  his  article  in  very  nearly  its  entirety. 
It  was  published  in  the  Sun  of  Friday,  September  16th. 
It  follows: 


With  their  return  to  such  parts  of  civilization  as  they  origi 
nally  hailed  from,  the  Rough  Riders  will  probably  get  back 
their  given  names,  and  they  who  have  for  the  last  four  months 
answered  to  the  general  name  of  "Buddy,"  or  the  more 
specific  cognomens  of  "Mike,"  "Reddy,"  "Pudge,"  "Pop- 
Eye"  and  the  like,  will  once  more,  not  without  a  feeling  of 
strangeness,  hear  themselves  greeted  as  Harry,  James,  Charley, 
Will,  or  whatever  other  name  was  bestowed  on  them  at  bap 
tism.  Almost  the  first  thing  that  happened  to  the  Rough 
Rider  upon  enlistment  was  to  find  himself  the  recipient  of  a 
name,  very  informally  presented,  according  to  no  set  rule, 
which  might  cling  to  him  during  the  entire  campaign,  or 
might  be  replaced  in  the  course  of  time  by  a  sobriquet  which 
some  event  would  fasten  upon  the  wearer.  In  this  class  be 
longs  "Slimpnthx,"  which  is  the  nearest  expression  possible 
with  letters  to  the  pronunciation  of  the  very  remarkable  mono 
syllable  designating  a  trooper  who  distinguished  himself  at 
Las  Guasimas.  After  the  first  rush  forward,  when  the  Rough 
Riders  were  fighting  frontier  fashion,  this  particular  private 
was  heard  between  the  sounds  of  the  guns  to  repeat  to  himself 
in  unwearying  iteration  a  formula  of  words  which,  altogether 
meaningless  at  first,  became  simply  a  jumble  of  sound  as  the 
words  came  faster  and  the  tone  grew  louder.  Finally  it 
reached  the  vocal  consistency  of  the  word  quoted  above.  Those 
near  the  utterer  of  the  mystic  tones  opined  that  he  was  saying 
his  prayers  in  Greek.  He  did  not,  however,  appear  to  be  in  a 
panic,  but  cheered  himself  on  with  the  strange  word,  for  the 
faster  and  louder  he  shouted  the  more  fiercely  did  he  fight. 
When  the  battle  was  over  several  curious  companions  waited 
upon  him  with  the  intention  of  finding  out  the  secret.  Each 

243 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   BOUGH   KIDEKS. 

had  a  try  at  repeating  the  sound,  but  the  originator  of  it  failed 
utterly  to  recognize  it. 

"Never  said  such  a  thing  in  my  life,"  he  declared.  "  You 
fellows  have  been  listening  too  hard  to  the  song  of  the  Mau 
sers." 

But  the  others  insisted  and  kept  011  essaying  the  exclama 
tion,  until  finally  a  light  broke  in  upon  the  trooper,  and  he 
burst  out  laughing. 

"  Well,  that's  one  on  me,"  he  said.  "I  remember  now  that  I 
was  repeating  a  set  of  words  when  I  went  into  the  row.  I'd  heard 
that  it  was  a  good  thing  to  keep  one's  mind  off  himself  in  time 
of  danger  just  to  say  over  and  over  again  some  formula.  I  was 
afraid  maybe  I'd  be  rattled,  so  when  the  bullets  began  to  sing 
I  tried  to  remember  some  rhyme  or  something,  and  the  only 
thing  that  came  into  my  head  was,  '  Six  slim,  slick  saplings,' 
If  ever  you  fellows  tried  that  at  school  you'll  know  it's  no 
snide  of  a  piece  to  speak  over  and  over,  even  when  everything 
else  is  peaceful.  I  guess  I  got  it  pretty  well  mixed  up,  but  by 
the  time  I  got  fairly  into  the  fight  I  must  have  forgotten  to 
stop  saying  it.  I  know  my  tongue  feels  kind  of  tangled  yet." 

The  explanation  was  accepted,  and  the  trooper  was  hence 
forth  known  by  his  self -given  nickname.  A  similar  case  of 
battlefield  nomenclature  was  that  of  "Tarantula  Hank,"  who 
was  fighting  valiantly  in  the  trenches  until  one  of  the  hideous 
and  ferocious  spiders  came  darting  along  toward  him,  where 
upon  he  turned  and  fled,  nor  could  he  be  persuaded  to  return 
until  a  comrade  had  smashed  the  tarantula  with  the  butt  of  a 
carbine.  "  The  Rockpicker"  is  a  trooper  who,  while  fighting 
in  the  trenches,  had  his  carbine  ruined  by  a  Mauser  bullet, 
whereupon,  in  a  wild  access  of  wrath,  he  rose  and  begun  to 
hurl  rocks  toward  the  Spanish  lines  with  furious  imprecations. 
As  the  nearest  Spanish  fire  was  directed  from  a  spot  fully  a 
third  of  a  mile  away,  it  is  not  supposed  that  he  added  appreci 
ably  to  the  day's  carnage.  "Pills,"  a  name  which  by  right 
belongs  to  the  troop  surgeon,  was  bestowed  upon  a  Corporal, 
who,  during  a  swift  advance,  was  heard  to  rattle  like  rain 
upon  a  tin  roof,  a  phenomenon  afterward  explained  by  the 
fact  that  his  shirt  was  full  of  pill  boxes.  Later  on  those  pills 
were  of  great  value  to  his  troop.  Many  of  the  nicknames 

244 


HOME   AGAIN. 

were  conferred  in  a  spirit  of  derision,  their  basis  lying  in  con 
trast.  Two  men  of  diametrically  opposite  type  were  assigned 
to  bunk  together  in  the  same  tent,  and  eventually  became 
sworn  friends.  One  was  the  typical  fastidious  clubman,  the 
other  a  tobacco-chewing,  cursing,  rough-and-ready  bad  man 
from  the  middle  West.  Immediately  the  clubman  was  chris 
tened  "Tough  Ike,"  and  his  bunkie  became  known  through 
the  regiment  as  "  That  Damn  Dude,"  or  for  short,  "  The  D.D." 
' '  Metropolitan  Bill  "  was  a  citizen  of  the  far  West  whose  chief 
claim  to  being  a  city  man  was  that  he  had  an  aunt  living  in 
New  York.  "  Sheeny  Solomon,"  sometimes  called  "  Ole 
Clo'es,"  was  a  red-headed  Irishman,  6  feet  2  in  his  stocking 
feet.  The  "Immigrant"  was  a  trooper  whose  family  helped 
settle  New  York.  "Rubber-Shoe  Andy"  distinguished  him 
self  and  won  his  name  on  scouting  duty  by  invariably  tum 
bling  over  something  with  a  great  clatter  at  the  very  moment 
when  silence  was  most  essential. 

There  were  three  bald-headed  men  in  one  troop,  known,  of 
course,  as  the  Sutherland  Sisters — Sister  Jane,  Sister  Anne  and 
Sister  Araminta,  A  young  fellow— and  a  mighty  good  fighter, 
too— proud  of  his  Jewish  blood,  accepted  with  perfect  equa 
nimity  the  nickname  of  the  "Pork  Chop."  In  the  same  troop 
with  him  was  a  private  who  was  probably  the  mildest  spoken  man 
in  the  army ;  one  evening,  however,  he  got  excited  over  some 
thing  and  was  plainly  heard  by  several  auditors,  whose  testi 
mony  is  unimpeachable,  to  exclaim:  "Oh,  thunder!"  That 
settled  his  case.  He  was  known  ever  after  as  ' '  Blasphemy 
Bill."  A  Mississippi  River  gambler,  noted  for  his  quiet  de 
meanor,  was  called  "  Hellroarer, "  while  the  most  picturesquely 
and  flamboyantly  profane  man  in  the  regiment  rejoiced  in  the 
appellation  of  "Prayerful  James."  The  fun-maker  for  one 
troop  was  a  light-hearted  Swede,  always  full  of  jokes,  and 
because  of  his  propensities  and  his  nationality  called  the 
"Weeping  Dutchman."  "Nigger"  was  a  young  fellow  so 
white  as  to  be  almost  an  albino.  "  Beefsteak  John  "  had  many 
times  called  down  the  wrath  of  his  famine-stricken  comrades 
by  describing  to  them  just  how  he  would  like  a  steak  cooked  at 
that  particular  moment,  how  it  should  be  two  inches  thick, 
delicately  brown  outside  and  deep  red  inside,  and  how  the 

245 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH    RIDERS. 

melted  butter  should  flow  over  it.  To  a  cowboy  who  arose  one 
night  and  fled  through  the  camp  in  his  dreams,  under  the  im 
pression  that  he  was  being  pursued  by  an  army  of  scorpions, 
his  Eastern  bunkie  has  given  the  name  of  "  The  Wicked  Flea," 
because,  as  he  says,  it  was  a  plain  case  of  "  no  man  pursueth," 
until  a  sentry  collared  the  fugitive.  It  goes  without  saying 
that  at  the  start  all  the  fat  men  were  called  "  Living  Skeleton," 
"  Beanpole,"  "Shadow,"  "  Starvation  Bill, "  "  Dr.  Tanner  "  and 
so  on,  while  the  thin  troopers  were  generally  designated  as 
"Jumbo,"  "Heavyweight,"  "  Anti-Fat "  and  the  like.  Before 
the  return  the  former  list  had  dwindled  to  nothing,  and  the  in 
ventive  genius  of  the  self-appointed  godfathers  was  taxed  to 
find  new  names  for  those  who  had  fortunately  preserved  their 
bones,  but  left  most  of  the  covering  thereon  in  Cuba. 

To  act  as  Col.  Roosevelt's  orderly  was  an  honor  to  which 
every  trooper  aspired.  It  was  not  always  an  easy  berth,  as  the 
Colonel  covered  a  great  deal  of  ground  and  kept  his  orderlies 
hustling,  and  had,  moreover,  a  habit  of  noticing  everything 
that  was  going  on.  A  Rough  Rider  who  was  detailed  one  day 
to  act  as  the  Colonel's  orderly  in  Cuba  relates  that  the  two  of 
them  had  ridden  to  El  Caney,  where,  while  his  commanding 
officer  was  attending  to  some  business,  the  orderly  contrived  to 
acquire  by  purchase  several  bottles  of  Jamaica  rum,  which  he 
disposed  of  in  a  nose  bag.  On  the  return  Col.  Roosevelt  set  a 
lively  pace,  as  is  his  habit,  and  the  nose  bag  began  to  dispense 
music. 

"  Clink-clink,  clinkety-clink,  clinkety-clinkety-clink,  "  it 
went. 

"Smith, "said  Col.  Roosevelt,  pulling  in  his  horse,  "what 
is  that  noise  ? " 

"  Sounds  like  glass,  sir,"  said  the  orderly. 

"  So  it  does.     Where  does  it  come  from,  Smith  ? " 

"  From  my  nosebag,  sir." 

"  Indeed !     And  what  have  you  got  in  that  nose  bag  ? " 

"Purchases,  sir." 

' '  What  ?  "  said  Col.  Roosevelt,  his  brow  wrinkling. 

"  Purchases,  sir,"  repeated  the  orderly,  firmly,  but  trem 
bling  in  his  boots. 

"  Hm  !  I  should  think  so,"  snorted  the  Colonel,  and  rode  on. 

24G 


HOME    AGAIN. 

The  clinking  continued.  Presently  the  Colonel  pulled  up 
again. 

"Smith!" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"At  the  turn  of  the  road  there  is  a  tree  with  large  soft 
leaves.  I  wish  you  would  stuff  some  of  them  into  that  nose 
bag.  It  makes  too  much  noise." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  orderly. 

There  was  a  pause  and  the  Colonel  rode  on. 

"Besides,"  he  added,  with  a  smile,  suddenly  turning  in  his 
saddle.  "  Some  of  those— er—  purchases  might  smash.  And 
you  never  can  tell  whom  we  might  meet." 

At  the  tree  the  orderly  packed  the  nose  bag  with  leaves, 
which  deadened  the  sound.  Five  minutes  later  they  met  a 
General  on  the  road,  but  the  nose  bag  was  safely  muffled,  and 
Col.  Roosevelt's  foresight  was  gloriously  vindicated. 

On  the  13th  of  September,  the  Rough  Riders  were 
paid  off;  they  had  been  in  the  service  almost  exactly  five 
months,  and  so  each  man  received  something  like  five 
times  $15.50.  Xow  $77  is  a  fortune  to  any  man  who 
has  not  seen  the  color  of  money  for  several  weeks,  and 
is  likely  to  be  received  by  such  with  great  enthusiasm. 
It  is  a  question,  if  the  men  were  happier  when  they  heard 
of  the  surrender  of  Santiago  than  they  were  when  they 
were  paid  off  at  Montauk. 

It  was  all  over  before  one  o'clock;  at  that  hour  a 
committee  of  embarrassed  troopers  waited  upon  Colonel 
Roosevelt  at  his  tent  and  asked  him  if  he  minded  step 
ping  over  to  a  rough  pine  table,  which  stood  unsteadily 
on  uneven  ground.  His  command  was  informally  drawn 
up  in  a  square  of  which  this  table  formed  the  centre. 
Upon  the  table  was  a  curious  something,  full  of  knobs 
and  bunches  and  covered  by  a  horse  blanket.  Lieu- 

247 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   ROUGH   RIDERS. 

tenant-Colonel  Brodie  happened  along  just  then,  and  tak 
ing  Roosevelt  by  the  arm,  conducted  him  to  a  place  in 
front  of  the  table.  Up  to  this  time  Roosevelt  had  not 
known  what  was  coming.  The  breathless  silence  which 
pervaded  the  place  and  the  curious  expectant  manner 
of  his  troopers  warned  him  now  that  something  pleasant 
was  likely  to  presently  occur.  His  face,  already  tanned 
to  a  deep  dark  brown,  took  on  the  ruddy  hue  of  a  Cuban 
veteran's  blush,  and  he  stood  there  awkwardly,  not  know 
ing  what  to  do.  There  was  a  pause  while  he  looked 
about  at  the  men  who  followed  him  so  bravely  at 
Guasimas  and  San  Juan.  He  saw  that  in  the  eyes 
of  some  of  them  the  tears  were  beginning  to  start, 
and  while  he  waited,  his  own  were  dimmed  with  mois 
ture. 

From  the  ranks  of  M  Troop  stepped  William  S.  Mur 
phy,  who,  although  he  Avas  a  private  in  the  regiment,  had 
been  a  judge  in  the  Indian  Territory  at  the  time  of  his 
enlistment,  and  Avas  known  as  one  of  the  most  eloquent 
men  in  that  part  of  the  AVest.  lie  took  off  his  cam 
paign  hat  and  presented  the  colonel  Avith  Frederick  Rem 
ington's  famous  "  Bronco  Buster."  Murphy  had  pre 
pared  an  elaborate  speech,  which  would  haATe  done  honor 
to  the  Indian  Territory  courts,  but  he  couldn't  speak  it, 
and  if  he  had,  most  of  the  men  in  the  regiment  would  not 
have  heard  it. 

The  chaps  AAT!IO  had  folloAved  Roosevelt  through  the 
terrible  hardships  of  the  whole  campaign,  who  had  en 
dured  their  wounds  without  complaining,  and  who  had 
stood  their  sickness  AATithout  once  crying  out,  gaATe  way 
this  day  for  the  first  time.  There  was  almost  no  one  in 

248 


HOME   AGAIN. 


the  regiment  who  was  not  crying,  when  Murphy  said, 
with  streaming  eyes: 

"  It  is  fitting  that  I,  one  of  the  troopers  from  the  ranks 
of  your  regiment,  should  try  to  tell  you  as  well  as  I  can, 
to  what  is  due  the  honor  given  me  in  making  this  pres 
entation.  It  is  well  known  that  while  you  hold  your 
officers  in  the  highest  esteem,  because  of  their  bravery, 
gallantry,  and  ability,  your  heart  of  hearts  was  ever  with 
your  men,  whether  in  the  tented  field  or  in  the  trenches 
before  the  enemy's  lines,  or  better  still,  in  the  trenches 
which  your  regiment  captured  from  the  enemy. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you,  sir,  that  one  and  all  of  us,  from 
the  highest  of  us  to  the  humblest  of  us,  will  always  carry 
with  us  in  our  hearts  a  pleasant  and  a  loving  memory 
of  your  every  act,  for  there  has  not  been  one  among  them 
which  has  not  been  of  the  kindest.  As  lieutenant- 
colonel  of  our  regiment,  you  first  made  us  respect  you; 
as  our  colonel  you  have  taught  us  to  love  you  deeply, 
as  men  love  men.  It  is  our  sincerest  hope,  now  that  we 
are  about  to  separate,  that  this  bronze  '  Bronco  Buster  ' 
will  sometimes  make  you  think  of  us,  as  we  shall  ever 
think  of  you." 

It  was  a  strange  thing  to  see  these  strong  men,  who 
had,  while  they  were  together,  been  through  so  much, 
standing  there  almost  overcome  by  emotion,  when  the 
moment  came  for  them  to  part.  Eoosevelt  spoke  briefly 
and  he  faltered  often.  He  said : 

"Officers  and  Men:  I  really  do  not  know  how  to 
answer  you.  Nothing  could  touch  and  please  me  as 
this  has  touched  and  pleased  me.  Trooper  Murphy  spoke 
quite  truly  when  he  said  that  my  men  were  nearest  to 

251 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    ROUGH   RIDERS. 

my  heart,  for  while  I  need  not  tell  to  my  officers  in  what 
deep  regard  I  hold  them,  they  will  not  mind  my  saying, 
that  just  a  little  closer  come  my  men. 

"  I  have  never  tried  to  coddle  yon,  and  I  have  never 
made  a  baby  of  any  one  of  yon.  I  have  never  hesitated 
to  call  upon  yon  to  spend  yonr  best  blood  like  water 
and  to  work  yonr  muscles  to  the  breaking  point.  Of 
course,  I  have  tried  to  do  all  that  I  could  do  for  you,  as 
you  have  ever  done  all  that  you  could  ever  do  for  me. 
You  are  the  best  judges  as  to  whether  or  not  I  have 
succeeded. 

"  I  am  proud  of  this  regiment  beyond  measure;  I  am 
proud  of  it,  because  it  is  a  typical  American  regiment, 
made  up  of  typical  American  men.  The  foundation  of 
the  regiment  was  the  i  Bronco  Buster/  and  we  have 
him  here  in  bronze.  The  men  of  the  West  and  the  men 
of  the  Southwest,  horsemen,  riflemen,  and  herders  of 
cattle,  have  been  the  backbone  of  this  regiment,  as  they 
are  the  backbone  of  their  sections  of  the  country.  This 
demonstrates  that  Uncle  Sam  has  nobler  reserve  of  fight 
ing  men  to  call  upon,  if  the  necessity  arises,  than  any 
other  country  in  the  world. 

"  The  West  stands  ready  now  to  furnish  tens  of  thou 
sands  of  men  like  you,  who  are  only  samples  of  what  our 
country  can  produce.  Besides  the  cow-puncher,  this 
regiment  contains  men  from  every  section  of  the  country 
and  from  every  State  within  the  Union.  This  shows 
us  that  the  West  is  not  alone  in  its  ability  to  furnish 
men  like  you.  This  gives  us  double  reason  to  feel  proud 
on  this  day  when  we  disband. 

"  I  have  profound  respect  for  you,  men  of  the  "Rough 


HOME    AGAIN. 

Riders,  not  only  because  you  have  fighting  qualities,  but 
because  you  also  have  those  qualities  which  made  men 
recognize  you  as  fighters,  and  enabled  you  to  be  among 
the  first  who  found  the  opportunity  of  getting  into  the 
fight.  Outside  of  my  own  immediate  family,  I  shall 
always  feel  that  stronger  ties  exist  between  me  and  you 
than  exist  between  me  and  anyone  else  on  earth.  If 
your  feeling  toward  me  is  like  mine  towards  you,  I  am 
more  than  pleased  to  have  you  tell  me  of  it. 

u  I  realized  when  I  took  charge  of  you.  that  I  was  tak 
ing  upon  myself  a  grave  responsibility.  I  cared  for  you 
as  individuals,  but  I  did  riot  forget  at  any  moment  that 
it  might  be  necessary  to  sacrifice  the  comfort  or  even  the 
lives  of  the  individuals,  in  order  to  insure  the  safety  of 
the  whole.  You  would  have  scorned  a  commander,  who 
hesitated  for  a  second  to  expose  you  to  any  risk.  I  was 
bound  that  no  other  regiment  should  get  any  nearer  to 
the  Spanish  lines  than  you  got,  and  I  do  not  think  that 
any  other  regiment  did. 

"  AVe  parted  with  many  in  the  fights  who  could  ill  be 
spared,  and  I  think  that  the  most  vivid  memories  we  will 
take  away  Avith  us  will  be  not  of  our  own  achievements, 
not  of  our  own  dangers,  not  of  our  own  suffering,  but 
will  be  of  those  whom  we  left  under  Cuban  sod  and 
those  who  died  in  the  hospitals  in  the  United  States — the 
men  who  died  from  wounds  and  the  men  who,  with  the 
same  devotion  to  their  country,  died  from  fevers — I 
cannot  mention  all  the  names  now,  but  three  of  them, 
Capron,  O'Xeill,  and  Fish,  will  suffice.  They  died  in 
the  pride  of  their  youthful  strength  and  they  died  for 
their  country,  like  men  who  were  proud  to  die. 

253 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   BOUGH   RIDERS. 

"  I  should  have  been  most  deeply  touched  if  the  offi 
cers  of  this  regiment  had  given  me  this  testimonial,  but 
I  appreciate  it  ten-fold,  as  coming  from  you,  my  men. 
You  shared  the  hardships  of  the  campaign  with  me; 
when  I  had  none,  you  gave  me  of  your  hardtack,  and  if 
I  lay  coverless,  I  never  lacked  a  blanket  from  my  men  to 
lie  upon. 

u  To  have  such  a  gift  come  from  this  peculiarly  Amer 
ican  regiment,  touches  me  more  than  I  can  say.  It  is 
something  that  I  shall  hand  down  to  my  children,  and 
value  more  highly  than  I  do  the  weapons  which  I  carried 
through  the  campaign  with  me. 

"  Now,  boys,  I  wish  to  take  each  of  you  by  the  hand, 
as  a  special  privilege,  and  say  good-by  to  you  individu 
ally;  this  is  to  be  our  farewell  in  camp;  I  hope  that  it 
will  not  be  our  farewell  in  civil  life." 

Then  the  men  were  mustered  out  of  the  service  of 
Uncle  Sam.  Colonel  Roosevelt  ceased  to  be  a  soldier 
when  his  men  did.  He  jumped  into  one  of  the  camp 
stages,  taking  with  him  Lieutenants  John  C.  Greenway, 
John  A.  Mcllhenny,  Chas.  Ballard,  and  Hal  Sayre. 
They  were  his  guests  at  Oyster  Bay  for  several  days,  and 
on  the  morrow,  Lieutenants  David  Goodrich  and  R.  H. 
Ferguson  joined  them  there.  A  large  party  of  Rough 
Riders  gave  him  a  rousing  good-by  at  the  station  and  he 
went  away  wearing  his  worn  and  stained  uniform — the 
same  which  had  carried  him  through  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  campaigns  known  in  the  history  of  war 
fare. 

During  the  stay  at  Camp  "Wikoff,  an  effort  was  made  to 
organize  a  permanent  Rough  Riders'  Association.  Lieu- 

254 


HOME  AGAIN. 

tenant-Colonel  Brodie  was  elected  president  of  it,  and 
one  or  two  meetings  were  held,  after  the  men  were  mus 
tered  out.  So  many  of  them  departed  immediately  for 
their  homes  that  by  no  means  all  the  members  of  the 
regiment  have  as  yet  been  inscribed  as  members  of  this 
organization,  but  it  will  undoubtedly  be  eventually  put 
on  a  firmer  basis  than  it  now  occupies. 

The  exodus  of  the  Rough  Riders  was  rapid.  The 
camp  seemed  dead  after  they  had  gone  away.  Only  one 
remained.  This  was  Lieutenant-Colonel  Brodie,  who, 
because  of  his  wounds,  had  been  promoted  from  a  major- 
ship  to  the  second  place  in  command.  His  chief  aim, 
after  he  had  ceased  to  be  a  soldier,  was  to  find  a  man 
in  the  uniform  of  a  second  lieutenant,  who  had  sold  him 
a  horse  the  day  before.  Shortly  after  he  had  bought 
and  paid  for  the  animal,  another  officer  walked  up  to 
the  line  where  he  was  picketed,  and  surprisedly  re 
marked: 

"  Hello !  who  tied  my  horse  here  ?  " 

Then  he  took  away  the  horse,  which  really  belonged 
to  him. 

Colonel  Brody  is  still  searching  for  the  lieutenant 
who  sold  the  horse  to  him. 

And  thus  ended  the  Rough  Riders,  as  a  regiment. 


255 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IN  NEW  YORK. 

The  Rough  Riders  made  almost  as  much  of  an  im 
pression  on  New  York  City  as  they  had  made  on  Cuba, 
although  the  carnage  Avas  not  so  great.  Discipline  for 
gotten,  the  articles  of  war  no  longer  an  important  con 
sideration,  and  home  in  immediate  prospect,  they  started 
out  with  what  enthusiasm  they  had  at  their  command — 
and  it  was  much — to  make  things  as  hot  in  the  metropolis 
as  they  had  been  in  Daiquiri,  on  that  never-to-be-for 
gotten  time  of  landing.  The  officers  of  the  regiment 
went  as  one  man  to  the  Hoffman  House,  although  it  was 
understood  that  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  would  be 
Colonel  Roosevelt's  headquarters,  because  it  was  the 
headquarters  of  the  Republican  Committee. 

Troop  H  reached  New  York  at  midnight,  and  got 
lodgings  in  the  Olive  Tree  Inn,  on  East  23d  Street. 
That  midnight  Avas  a  hot  midnight  for  New  York  City, 
and  it  is  not  likely  that  the  proprietors  of  the  Olive  Tree 
Inn  will  ever  forget  the  fact  that  the  Rough  Riders 
took  lodging  there. 

Troops  K,  M,  and  B  paused  temporarily  in  Long 
Island  City.  I  will  not  say  that  the  Red  Cross  people 
who  cared  for  them  there  are  sorry  that  they  did,  but  it 
is  unquestionably  true  that  they  will  never  forget  the 
fact  that  the  men  of  troops  Iv,  M,  and  B  paused  in 

256 


IN   NEW    YORK. 

Long  Island  City,  and  that  they  were  cared  for  by  the 
people  of  the  Red  Cross. 

Xew  York  was  dotted  with  their  brown  uniforms  early 
after  the  first  day  of  the  Rough  Riders'  release.  Prob 
ably  half  of  them  visited  Broadway,  and  the  same  half 
later  found  things  to  interest  them  in  other  parts  of  New 
York  City.  Not  one  of  them  had  removed  his  uniform, 
and  so  the  public  readily  recognized  them.  Hundreds  of 
civilians  forced  their  hospitality  upon  them.  Four  of 
them  went  to  the  Stock  Exchange.  They  were  instantly 
spotted  by  the  members  and  were  taken  to  the  floor,  an 
honor  accorded  to  few.  Whoever  was  of  great  financial 
interest  in  the  building  at  the  time  was  formally  intro 
duced  to  them,  and  no  one  was  introduced  to  them  who 
was  not  glad  to  be.  The  old  building  on  Wall  Street 
resounded  for  hours  with  cheers  for  the  regiment,  and 
their  presence  there  really  had  its  decided  effect  upon 
business  for  that  day. 

An  interesting  episode  of  the  evening  occurred  on 
Broadway.  Six  of  them  paused  to  explain  to  a  Broad 
way  policeman  that  he  didn't  dare  arrest  them  because, 
if  he  did,  they  would  sick  Roosevelt  on  him.  He  was 
considerably  puzzled  by  the  strange  situation,  and  was 
about  to  rap  for  assistance  when  he  discovered  that  one 
of  the  invading  troopers  was  his  long-lost  brother. 

He  didn't  rap. 

The  other  five  joined  hands  about  the  two  re-united 
ones,  and  danced  a  war-dance  which  blocked  Broadway. 

And  so  it  went.  Wherever  the  Rough  Riders  could 
go,  they  journeyed,  and  wherever  they  journeyed  they 
owned  the  town. 

17  257 


THE   STOKY   OF   THE   BOUGH   1UDEKS. 

Troop  II  assembled  at  the  Hoffman  House  and  had 
a  little  celebration  at  the  expense  of  Captain  Curry. 
It  was  formally  announced  that  night  that  $1,000  would 
be  paid  for  any  horse  that  Sergeant  Tom  Darnell  could 
not  ride. 

At  the  Hotel  Imperial,  the  men  of  Troop  K  were 
gathered,  and  L  Troop  held  a  farewell  session  at  the 
Grand  Union.  Very  late  in  the  evening,  a  number  of 
the  officers  gathered  at  the  Holland  House  and  said  their 
last  good-bys. 

And  so  ended  the  Rough  Riders. 

With  the  dawning  of  the  next  day  many  of  them 
were  on  the  trains,  speeding  towards  their  distant  homes. 
Some  of  the  Westerners  have  stayed  East  and  some  of 
the  Easterners  have  gone  West.  The  regiment  is  broken 
up  and  scattered. 

Yale  to  it, 

It  was  the  greatest  fighting  machine  that  any  army 
ever  held. 

Yale. 


258 


THE  ROSTER  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS. 


THE   STORY    OF  THE   ROUGH  EIDERS. 


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14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWE1 


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_JULJ12J993__ 

AUTO  DISC  CiRC  APR  02 '93 


LD21A-60m-8,'70 
(N8837slO)476 — A-32 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


28135 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CD45iai71S 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


